Secret's End
by OhMally
Summary: A decade before the events of Discovery, Saru serves on the USS Shenzhou under the command of Captain Philippa Georgiou. A seemingly routine mission to rout some pirates turns into something else entirely when they encounter a previously unknown species of alien... This story is standalone semi-sequel to The Captain's Secret.
1. A Chance Discovery

Welcome to Secret's End, side-quel to my other fanfic, The Captain's Secret. You do not need to read the other fanfic to read this one. They are connected, but they are equally independent of each other.

If you have read the other one, there are a few secrets you'll spot right off the bat, and you'll find a few spots in here are a retread, but this is a very different story told from a different perspective and with a different sequence of events. Think of it as a chance to discover the characters and some of the secrets anew and learn some secrets and answers the other story did not include.

Additionally, I am pleased to say that, in keeping with the same thing that made the Captain's Secret possible, the final chapter of this has already been written.

* * *

Standing at the science station on the bridge of the USS _Shenzhou_ , Saru found no comfort in the acoustic soundscape of life aboard a starship, but after five years in space, he was growing accustomed to it. As he scanned for anomalies in an otherwise unremarkable region of space, he could pick out each individual component of what he was hearing: the faint thrum of the engines and warp field, the soft murmurs of the officers around him as they communicated with non-bridge crew across the rest of the ship, the blips of acknowledgment as his crewmates tapped commands into their consoles, and the almost imperceptible hiss of atmosphere through the environmental filters. He could identify, too, the direction of each of these noises, so he could tell when a computer blip came from the ops console ahead to his right or the tactical station off to the left—even with his eyes closed.

To most, this would have seemed a remarkable feat, but to Saru, it was a constant reminder of the fact he was a Kelpien—a sapient prey species shaped by millions of years of evolution on a planet where every bush, tree, and rock contained lurking danger. The net result of this long history of anxiety was that Kelpiens were always in a state of high alert for danger.

It had also given them a reputation as cowards which Saru could not wholly deny. As peaceful and calm as the bridge was at the moment, the fact that this could change in the blink of an eye was creating within him an impulse to run somewhere more predictably safe. He fought this instinct by focusing on what was in front of him at the science station. In a universe where every moment held potential chaos, science was a steady constant and Saru's greatest comfort.

Presently, his display was showing him a map of the local region. It was largely unremarkable. A couple of subspace eddies, a few planetary points of interest, all of it well-mapped and in no need of investigation. The _Shenzhou_ was an exploratory vessel that had been temporarily retasked to deal with a regional group of pirates at the behest of a local government, the Dartaran Council. Normally such a task would be considered well beneath the _Shenzhou_ 's prominence, but the Dartarans were in the process of considering Federation membership. Wiping out these pirates was seen as a positive step towards cementing the relationship and Starfleet wanted one of its most reliable on the job. That meant Saru's captain, Philippa Georgiou, whose presence commanded instant respect in this and many other regions of space. As soon as the _Shenzhou_ figured out what well-mapped rock the pirates were hiding on, they would complete the mission and return to their regular exploratory duties.

For now, the patrol continued.

Saru sensed the danger before there seemed to be any evidence of it. The tiny, fleshy tendrils of threat ganglia along the back of his head tingled and emerged from beneath the flap normally concealing them. He brought his hand up towards the tendrils, wondering the cause and hoping no one had noticed.

"Commander, we're receiving a shortrange transmission," said the ensign on communications, Hasimova. "Dartaran in origin."

"Onscreen," was the command from the captain's chair. T'Vora, the _Shenzhou_ 's first officer, waited impassively as this order was not carried out.

"The signal's distorted," said Hasimova, too embarrassed to play the messy noise over the bridge comms. "I can't translate it yet."

Saru understood the ensign's embarrassment all too well. He felt similarly about the writhing mess of ganglia on the back of his head. "There is a subspace eddy between us and the signal's origin," he offered. "Compensating." The task calmed him and his ganglia withdrew from sight.

Signal cleaned, Hasimova was able to pull it up on the viewscreen. What they saw astonished them.

"—lalilalulhallilinnlalanalenilalalanelamelimanlaluni—"

It was alien, that much was clear. The question was what _kind_ of alien. It had grayish blue fur and a pair of enormous, almost perfectly-round, lidless green eyes with six pupil slits arranged in a ring. The color and arrangement reminded Saru of an Earth fruit he had recently tried called a "kiwi." The rapid stream of syllables coming out of the creature's mouth was unlike anything Saru had ever heard before. He could see its tongue fluttering to produce the wet, lilting sequence of sounds. It was wearing some sort of white garment, the collar just visible on the screen.

T'Vora hit the comm command on her armrest. "Captain to bridge. We have encountered an unknown species." Her finger lifted from the comm. "Cross-reference against the known species database."

"Yes, sir," said Saru, though like T'Vora, he already suspected this was a futile effort because the computer would have been able to translate the language if it belonged to a known species.

"—lemalunilalamelanalilianilililialemalal—"

"Where are we on translation?"

"Almost there," promised the ensign.

"—lalimilalilunilalamanilamili—me! Help me, please! Is there anyone there? Please, can anyone hear me? Help me! Hello, can someone please help me?" The universal translator rendered the voice as high-pitched in keeping with the alien's natural tone.

This was the sound that Captain Philippa Georgiou arrived to as she strode onto the bridge and T'Vora turned over the captain's chair.

"Status report."

"We're tracking a Dartaran transport broadcasting a distress signal," said T'Vora, moving to the tactical console and displacing an ensign back to observer status.

"Set a course to intercept and open a channel," ordered Georgiou, issuing commands as smoothly as if she had been there the whole time.

The alien continued its pleading unabated. "If there's someone out there, anyone, please, I need—" There was a beeping sound on the transmission as the _Shenzhou_ hailed. The alien twisted its head in confusion. "Hello? Can you hear me? Is someone there? Hello? Hello?"

Georgiou's eyes were on Hasimova. The ensign sat with her hand to her ear pensively, shook her head, and sent the hail again. The alien began shifting, searching its console for the source of the beeps. Hasimova nodded her head sharply at Georgiou as the signal connected.

"Alien vessel, this is Captain Philipp—"

The alien's reaction was overwhelmingly enthusiastic. "I see you! You're human! Can you see me?"

If Georgiou was taken aback by the alien's interruption, she made no outward sign of it. "Yes, though I am unfamiliar with your species. This is the Federation starship _Shenzhou_ , responding to your distress signal. What is the problem?"

"Feder... Federation. Nnnn..." Mention of the Federation seemed to dim the alien's enthusiasm. The alien tilted its head downward so the glassy surface of its eyes reflected the lights and displays of the navigational controls on its ship.

"Are you in need of assistance?" asked Georgiou.

"Nn," went the alien. "Yes, though..." Its hands came into view in front of its face, eight knobbly-knuckled fingers pressing together, four on each hand.

"We are prepared to help. Can you tell us your species?"

"I am a lului. My name is Lalana."

Georgiou sounded it out. "La-lu-na?"

The hesitation continued. "Nn. Lalana."

"Lalana"—it still sounded like _laluna_ to Saru's ears when Georgiou said it—"we would be happy to help you if you tell us what is wrong."

Lalana's hands lowered to chin level. "I am attempting to escape."

"Captain," said T'Vora, "I'm detecting a second Dartaran vessel in pursuit of the first. An identical personal transport vessel."

"That is them! Please, please, don't let them take me back. I beg of you, help me!" The fingers on the viewscreen curled and began to rapidly knock together in some sort of agitation display.

"The pursuit vessel is broadcasting a message," reported Hasimova.

"Onscreen," said Georgiou. Lalana's image shifted to the left to make room for both signals.

Two Dartarans appeared, brown-skinned with orange streaks along their spiky jawlines. The smaller one said in a sharp, authoritarian tone: "Federation starship! We are in pursuit of stolen property. This is an internal Dartaran matter. No assistance is required. Repeat. Federation starship! We are..."

"Hail them. Dartaran vessel, this is the USS _Shenzhou_. The vessel you are pursuing is requesting our help. Identify yourselves."

The smaller Dartaran bristled visibly, her jaw spikes seeming to sharpen as the skin around them contracted. "No help is required. We are perfectly capable of handling this. The Federation holds no jurisdiction here."

"The pursuit vessel will engage its target in five-point-seven hours at present speeds," reported T'Vora. That seemed an excessively long timeframe. Saru noted the two ships were barely capable of warp two. He also noticed something else unusual, but he was not the one to speak the fact aloud, T'Vora did. "Captain, I am detecting no life signs aboard the lead vessel."

Lalana stared at them, her fingers still a mess of motion, the pupils in her eyes contracting and expanding. "You would not detect me, but if you will not help me, then will you kindly shoot me out of the sky? You have this ability, yes?"

The sounds of the starship came to the forefront again as the Dartarans and the crew of the _Shenzhou_ fell silent and processed that request.

"That is not necessary," said Georgiou. "Dartaran vessel, am I to understand that you are in pursuit of a ship which was stolen from you?" The Dartarans shifted, exchanged a glance, but did not answer.

Lalana answered for them. "The ship is not the property they wish the return of. The property is me."

"He lies," said the female Dartaran. "We are his caretakers, captain, and wish only to bring him home safe. This is a... private issue."

There were two conflicting stories at play and no clear evidence of fault. Georgiou opted for a middle road approach. "This is not something which can be easily resolved over communications. We will therefore rendezvous with you and you may sort this out aboard the _Shenzhou_. We will, of course, contact the Dartaran Council to advise us and make sure your laws are followed."

It was such a reasonable proposal the Dartarans were having a hard time throwing up objections to it. They glanced at each other again, not sure how to avoid this course of action.

On the left side of the viewscreen, Lalana's fingers pressed tightly together again. "I have no wish to trade one set of captors for another. I would sooner die free upon a starship of my own command than to subject myself to any Federation machinations. I will not have conditions placed upon me when I am already free among the stars as I have longed to be. I have survived the hunt, I have survived the holding, and I choose this death." That stated, Lalana's head drew back and slammed down face first against the ship's console with such force it sounded like two rocks striking together. Then the lului repeated the motion with a thwack that sounded like something breaking.

The sight disturbed everyone, even the Dartarans. "Stop!" said the larger Dartaran, his eyes refocusing in alarm. "Come home, we can—" The female Dartaran put a clawed hand on the male's arm and squeezed, hard.

Lalana did stop, for a moment. "Why would I go home with you? You do not even know my gender. I am not a male!"

It was a definitive nail into the coffin of the Dartarans' narrative. Georgiou said coolly, "We wish only to discern the truth of this matter. Once we have done so, then we will determine the best course of action for everyone, yourself included."

The female Dartaran abruptly cut their side of the feed, ostensibly to confer privately with her companion. That left Lalana onscreen and afforded Georgiou a moment to speak in equal privacy.

"Have you been held against your will?"

Lalana tapped her fingers together. "Not _lailen_."

"The translator didn't get that," reported Hasimova. "Can you clarify _lailen_?"

"Two and two is _lailen_."

Hasimova's brow knit. If _lailen_ meant four, the computer would have registered the word as such, but something was causing the translation matrix to balk. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't translate that."

"It is unimportant," said Georgiou. "We will help you if help is warranted. This I promise."

* * *

When the Dartarans resumed communications, they were resigned to their fate and accepted the rendezvous coordinates without further objection. Lalana was similarly amenable with the caveat that she did not possess the skills necessary to carry out the navigational request. "I do not know what 'coordinates' are and while I was able to make the ship start, I do not know how to make it stop."

The simplest solution was for someone to beam over to the transport and take control of the vessel. Commander Jones, one of the chief engineers, accepted the task. They matched warp speed to the Dartaran shuttle and initiated a transport.

Jones's assessment of the situation was immediate and unexpected. There was a problem.

"Captain, the control panel was damaged and the warp drive is stuck in a power cycle loop. I can't disengage it."

"I suppose I should not have hit the table with my face," said Lalana, clicking her tongue in a manner that had to indicate alarm at her predicament.

Jones ignored the commentary. "The drive will go critical in eight minutes."

"Beam them out," ordered Georgiou.

"I can't lock on to the alien, captain," was the reply from Garcia, the operations officer.

Georgiou mentally reviewed the Starfleet core breach checklist. "Can you jettison the core?"

"Negative, it's an integrated system."

There were no escape pods on the shuttlecraft. There were two emergency spacesuits. Jones held one up and looked at Lalana. "Let's try and get this on you."

"Six minutes to core overload," reported Garcia.

The spacesuit effort was not going very well. Jones gave it his best shot but once the puffy white garment Lalana was wearing came off, it became clear to everyone watching that Lalana's alienness extended well past her giant eyes and furry blue head. She was not humanoid. A long tail drifted behind her, thin for most of its length and terminating in a broad spoon shape. "Perhaps we should break my legs," she suggested.

"A containment crate!"

Everyone turned to look at Saru. The attention was enough to draw out his threat ganglia again; the sensation of so many eyes upon him was deeply unsettling. He sputtered a moment and pushed through the distress.

"A reinforced biological containment crate would withstand the vacuum of space and provide life support long enough to tractor it aboard. We have several in cargo bay three. We need only beam one over."

"Do it," said Georgiou. The crew hastened to comply in the remaining four minutes. Garcia contacted the cargo bay officer on duty and looped him in. Georgiou issued a quick set of commands to confirm their course of action for all: beam over a crate, put Lalana in the crate, jettison the crate from the shuttlecraft and tractor it. "That was an excellent idea, Mr. Saru."

"Thank you, captain," said Saru. There was something vaguely dazed in his tone. As important as coordinating Lalana's rescue was, he was preoccupied by something she had said before smashing her head against the console.

Georgiou rose from the captain's chair and moved towards the turbolift. Saru straightened slightly, mouth open as if he wanted to speak. Georgiou paused mid-stride and asked, "Something on your mind, Mr. Saru?"

"Captain, may I—may I—"

Georgiou's head twisted slightly in an indication she did not appreciate the stammer in a moment where time was of the essence.

"—meet our guest with you?"

"Come," Georgiou invited. Saru followed her into the turbolift with hands clasped in front of him. The doors slid shut and the turbolift began its path downward towards the shuttlebay.

"Captain, if I may draw your attention to something that was said during the transmission, Lalana made reference to a hunt."

"I heard the same."

"It is my impression she may have been hunted as my people once were."

Georgiou did not reply; that was equally obvious to her.

"It may be of benefit for our guest to have a non-human present when meeting us."

"It may," agreed Georgiou.

"Firsthand experience with an unknown alien species would additionally assist me in receiving first contact certification."

"Mr. Saru, you are already in the turbolift, you do not need to justify your presence further."

The turbolift doors opened. Georgiou strode out and Saru followed a moment later, realizing he had gotten bogged down in semantics in a moment when action was preferred. He mentally bemoaned his mistake. Semantics were part of how he processed things and it was an easy pattern to fall back into when he was feeling stressed, as he was right now.

They arrived as the cargo crate slipped through the containment field over the mouth of the shuttlebay. Jones was with it, tethered to the crate's lid. He rolled off and stood up as the crate touched the ground, prioritizing opening the container over removing his own spacesuit. Lalana's head and eyes popped up into view. She gripped the lip of the crate with four-fingered hands and twisted around, taking in the view.

"Captain, the shuttlecraft has exploded," T'Vora reported over the comms. Georgiou responded with thanks and approached the crate with Saru as Jones removed his suit helmet.

"It is very grey. Is it always this grey?" Lalana asked Jones.

"Yeah," said Jones.

"Nnh," was Lalana's response. She hopped out of the crate, revealing long, thin legs with an extra set of joints beyond the arrangement possessed by Kelpiens and humans. Viewed in full, her body had a configuration not unlike a gerboa. She used her tail as a counterbalance to the mass of her torso and spun her hands in front of her in a motion like a fruit fly.

Saru balked slightly at her unclothed state. He stared as Georgiou provided a standard greeting followed by a very specific circumstantial stipulation. "As we have not encountered your species before, we must place you under a medical quarantine, for your safety as well as ours."

"Place me below what?" responded Lalana.

"Containment in a medical facility," clarified Saru. "Until we are certain our species pose no risk to one another."

Lalana touched her tail to the floor for support and leaned stiffly back on her haunches. "Imprisonment," she said.

"No," said Georgiou. "It is standard procedure when meeting a new species. You will be free to go after you have been examined. Commander Jones, you will go as well."

"Yes, captain."

There was an open secret in the air. The crux of the issue was not exposure to new alien life, it was that said new alien life had not undergone transporter biofilter protocols. There was no reason for Jones to be quarantined—he could have undergone those protocols himself now that he was aboard—except to provide Lalana some form of accompaniment as reassurance of their benevolence.

Security officers arrived. Georgiou signaled them to provide escort. "Come, tell us how you came to encounter the Dartarans."

"Certainly. Four cycles ago, the _Hla-pu_ came to Luluan in their ships and attempted to build structures on our planet..."

What followed was a detailed accounting of an alien invasion by a violent species intent on subjugating Lalana's homeplanet for unknown reasons. Georgiou and Saru listened intently as Lalana explained how the invaders had engaged in various methods of genocide against her people, including burning the forests her species lived in and unleashing biological agents into the air.

By the time they arrived in the medical bay, Saru had ascertained that the lului were not a prey species in the same sense as Kelpiens. Lalana's description made clear her people were not content to be victims of invasion. "Every time they came back, we fought them again, careful not to kill them but to destroy the implements of their colonization efforts and reduce their structures back to the component elements. Finally, the cycle concluded, the Hla-pu went away and were not seen again. We thought the issue to be resolved, but then the hunters came."

"The hunters were the Dartarans?" asked Georgiou.

"Oh, no, not until much later did the Dartarans arrive. The merchants came alone at first, to assess the value of the venture, and once they determined it was solvent, they began to bring their clients."

Saru realized Lalana was not giving them a direct explanation of her presence with the Dartarans so much as an accounting of her planet's history in significantly more detail than was usefully applicable.

The comms beeped. The Dartarans were aboard. Georgiou ordered T'Vora to escort their other guests to the conference room while the _Shenzhou_ 's chief medical officer, Dr. Channick, instructed Lalana to move onto one of the medbay slabs and enacted a containment field until she could determine what threat, if any, Lalana posed.

Lalana reacted to the field by beginning to knock her knuckles together rapidly.

"Please, continue," said Georgiou.

"Nn." Lalana's twelve pupils constricted to slits. The level of detail in her account dropped to almost nothing. "There were many hunters in the three cycles following and then the Dartarans came and captured me and Lalaran and took us to their home."

"Another of your species?" Georgiou guessed.

"Yes. But he died shortly after arrival. He was not suited to captivity. I remained until I was able to take their ship and make my way to the stars. Then you found me."

Georgiou considered the totality of the story. "Lalana, can you tell us where your world is located?"

"In relation to what? I do not even know where I am now."

* * *

Georgiou left Saru to make what he could of their guest and proceeded to the conference room. T'Vora met her in the hallway outside and they entered together as a minor show of solidarity and strength.

The Dartarans were seated on the far side of the table facing the door in a defensive position, their backs to the stars outside the window. The female Dartaran, Margeh, rose as they entered. Her husband, T'rond'n, remained seated in a manner that felt vaguely subservient, his hands stuffed into the billowy cloth of his long-sleeved robe.

"Captain Georgiou," began Margeh, leaning forward with her hands on the table.

Georgiou was calmly accusatory as she and T'Vora sat down across the table. "You lied to me," she said. "You identified yourselves as caretakers."

"We are," said T'rond'n.

"Keeping a sentient species hostage? Perhaps the word means something different in your language."

Margeh's claws tightened, her nails scraping faintly on the conference table's matte surface. "Captain, until today, we did not even know he—she could speak!"

As incredible as that assertion was, there was no indication from either that this was anything short of the truth and Lalana's capacity to refute the claim reduced their incentive to lie significantly. "Then tell me, how did you come to meet Lalana?"

The picture Margeh and T'rond'n painted was much clearer than Lalana's.

They were hunters. They made no effort to hide this fact. It was a hobby they shared and enjoyed primarily in the privacy of their own estate, which they kept stocked with the most challenging game they could find. "We do not typically kill our prey," explained Margeh. "We simply enjoy the art of tracking and disabling them."

Their hobby had drawn them into contact with other hunters, including an Eska who had been on an expedition with a group of Gentonians to hunt "the most elusive prey in the known universe." A species that could camouflage itself into its surroundings, had no heat signature, and did not show up on standard scanners. "A challenge like no other," their Eska friend promised.

It was an opportunity Margeh and T'rond'n could not pass up. "If we had known they were sentient, we would never have gone!" Margeh assured. She remained standing as she recounted these events, pacing and occasionally gripping the table, chairs, and T'rond'n with her pinprick-sharp claws.

"It was our understanding they were mere animals," said T'rond'n. "The lului has been... has been in our house for years, captain. We intended it no harm."

"In that time, it never spoke," said Margeh. Then she repeated, again, what she felt to be the crucial detail of their involvement: "We do not kill our prey."

There was the matter of the other dead lului, Lalaran. "That one also did not speak?" queried T'Vora.

"It died shortly after we brought it home," explained Margeh. She finally sat down. "There was... The man in charge of the expedition, Eggal or something similar, insisted on changing the other lului's tongue so it would cease making incessant noise. He said it was standard procedure."

"Changing?"

"Cutting it, as you would a malspat's tail," said T'rond'n. Though neither Georgiou nor T'Vora knew that a malspat was a spike-tailed creature often kept as a Dartaran pet once its tail spike was removed, both understood the implication.

"We did not cut the—it— _her_ tongue because she did not make noise like the other one. We thought she was abnormal, deficient. She was very easy to catch. It seemed kinder to remove her from her native environment than leave her there. She could not even properly camouflage herself. Another hunter would have taken her easily."

Georgiou considered the Dartarans. Between their story and Lalana's lay something that felt like the truth. Neither side contradicted the other, but their combined inability and unwillingness to communicate the two sides of the narrative had led them both to a collective point of misunderstanding. Georgiou folded her hands on the conference table. She had only one question to ask in light of this information.

"Would you help us contact these people who arranged your hunting trip?"

"Of course, captain. We will help you in any way we can."

* * *

Things were not going so smoothly in the medical bay. "I don't know what to do," Channick admitted, tugging on her ear with annoyance. "Literally none of these scans are working."

"Optical and sonar only," said Lalana. Her pupils were still heavily constricted and she was hunched on top of the medical slab with her tail circled around the base of her body, creating the impression she was a single, solid jellybean shape. Jones stood off to the side, entirely disinterested in the proceedings and dismayed at being stuck in sickbay for the sole purpose of good optics. He wasn't even supposed to be on this shift, except Georgiou's regular first-shift chief engineer, Commander Dahan, was on leave.

"Perhaps I can adjust the electromagnetic scanners to compensate," suggested Saru.

"I will not register. My electromagnetic radiation field is indistinguishable from the background noise of the universe."

"How can that be?" asked Saru.

Lalana said nothing.

"Is there something bothering you?"

"It is very bright."

The medbay was one of the best-lit areas of the ship. "Computer, lights to eighty percent," said Channick, and the light dimmed.

"Not those lights, the wall," said Lalana.

Saru pressed his hands together thoughtfully, connecting her words to an earlier observation. "Do you mean the biological containment field?"

"The wall of particles? Yes."

"You can see that?" asked Channick.

"You cannot?" They could, but only when it was being turned on, off, or actively containing something. All other times, it was transparent to Saru and the humans in the room.

"I can't turn it off," lamented Channick. "There might be parasites, or toxins... I'm sorry, I don't know anything about your species. Can you tell me what sort of diseases or illnesses you're prone to?"

"No."

Hasimova had come down from the bridge and was fiddling with the translation matrix on one of the medbay monitors. She changed a few settings. "Diseases and illnesses," she repeated, setting the translator to render the words in Dartaran.

"No," said Lalana again.

"Help me out here," said Channick. "I can't scan you. I can't turn the iso field off until I confirm you're safe."

"I will attempt to adjust the isolation field to a more comfortable frequency," suggested Saru, largely as an aside for his own benefit because no one else was paying him any attention. He located an open workstation and began to contemplate the medical isolation field mechanics and how they might be affecting lului eyes.

"I am not safe," said Lalana.

Channick found something to be optimistic about in the statement, damning as it sounded. Her face lit up. "Great! Can you tell me how?"

"I have been captured by the Federation."

"Not 'safe' as in 'endangered,'" Hasimova clarified, identifying the issue and adjusting translation to compensate. "'Safe' as in 'not dangerous.'"

After a brief discussion about the nuances of the language being used, Lalana revised her answer to, "I am not dangerous."

"Maybe not you directly, but there might be microorganisms on you... I guess we'll spot-test some decon protocols." Whatever danger Lalana might pose, Channick was equally determined not to harm the lului by subjecting her to any medical procedures that might be incompatible with her biology.

"I am microorganism- _lulu_." The translator rendered the voice with no discernible change in tone, but it felt like Lalana was growing aggravated and sullen as a result of her ordeal.

Saru changed one of the sub-settings in the isolation field. Lalana sat up and began spinning her hands, her pupils dilating back to their previous width.

"Thank you! That is much better, individual whose name I do not know!"

The idea that this encounter was going to be the impetus for earning first contact certification suddenly seemed an entirely remote possibility to Saru. He had been in Lalana's company for over twenty minutes and failed to introduce himself. "I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Saru."

"Then I am pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Junior Grade Saru. And what are your people called?"

"I am a Kelpien."

"I have never met a Kelpien before. Your people must not be very good hunters." Her tongue clicked.

Saru registered the clicks as another agitation response, likely a result of Lalana recalling her experience being hunted. Lului might not be prey in an evolutionary sense, but in a broader sense, they had this condition in common with Kelpiens. Saru's shoulders softened in sympathy. "I think you will find our species have many things common."


	2. A Measured Response

A/N: Sorry for the immense delay, we've had a huge surge of projects this month at work. I worked 30 hours of overtime at one point! Luckily, since my day job is writing, I enjoy it, but it left precious little time for recreational writing. Which isn't to say that I didn't find moments here and there to write a bit. Just that there weren't enough of them to finish the chapter until now. Especially since I mostly wrote a bunch of future scenes! (Spoiler sentences on my tumblr have been updated accordingly.)

Also, readers of TCS will note the crew of the Shenzhou is somehow simultaneously much better and much worse than the Triton's...

* * *

Gradually, the situation in the _Shenzhou_ 's medbay resolved itself—with some help from the Dartarans.

"We have never had any issue with the lului in the sense of biological contaminants," Margeh assured Georgiou. Lalana had been living with them for six years and encountered humans and several other species with no ill effects suffered by any parties. There was also the point that, by Margeh's description, the Gentonians running the hunting expeditions were extremely cautious and catered to a wealthy clientele whose health they valued. If Lalana or her species posed any risk, the Gentonians would have said as much before allowing Margeh and T'rond'n to take a pair of them home.

T'Vora passed this information along to Dr. Channick, who subsequently decided Lalana was less a threat to the ship and more a potential patient given the length of her captivity. This still left a central question unresolved.

"How am I supposed to know if you're in good health?" Channick asked after the isolation field came down. She remained at a dead end with her attempts to run medical scans. Saru had been equally unsuccessful at ascertaining any scanner adjustments that would do more than provide a basic physical map of the surface of Lalana's body. "You've been captive for a long time."

"It was not so long," said Lalana. "Not even a half of a half of a half of a half of a cycle. And I am entirely undamaged by it."

"A cycle, is that a measurement of time for your species?" asked Saru.

"Yes. I am seven cycles of age."

Saru followed the math without trouble. If Lalana had been captive for six years, then six was half of twelve, twenty-four, forty-eight, ninety-two. Except that would make Lalana close to seven hundred years old. Probably she was not being literal and her sense of time was confused after being separated from her natural day/night cycle for so long.

"When you say that," Saru began, only to be cut off by Channick.

"Thing is, even if there aren't any physical wounds, there's the issue of long-term malnutrition. How was your diet? Were you ever sick? Any lethargy?"

Whatever Hasimova was doing with the translation was not having the intended effect. Lalana remained flummoxed by Channick's inquiries. "Bad nutrition? How are nutrients bad?"

"Malnutrition—weakness from not eating the right foods."

"I do not understand. Correct foods?"

"What do you typically eat on your planet?" asked Saru in an attempt to head off what seemed to be an entirely misguided line of medical questions towards an alien that clearly had little notion of medical concepts.

"Whatever I want to."

Channick frowned. Saru's inquiry had not ended up much more helpful than hers and she considered her own versions of the questions more important than his. "Plants, meat, fruit..."

"Yes," said Lalana. "Anything which contains the components I require."

So, she was an omnivore. "Perhaps I could bring you an assortment of food items and you can tell us what most resembles the food sources on your planet," suggested Saru.

Lalana's hands spun. "Yes, that would be lovely, Lieutenant Junior Grade Saru! You have such a long name, is there a shorter version of it?"

Saru stood there with his hands pressed together feeling moderately embarrassed as Hasimova and Channick stared at him with less than impressed expressions. This whole experience was starting to feel like a disaster. Saru desperately wanted to run out of the room and hide in the darkest corner he could find. His ganglia itched along the back of his head. "Lieutenant junior grade is my rank. Saru is my name. 'Lieutenant Saru' will suffice."

The last thing Saru heard as he made his exit was Hasimova wondering aloud, "Do you want us to get you some clothes to wear?" Lalana's response to this was not verbal: she stuck the full length of her tongue out at them and coiled it like a spring.

Gathering the various foodstuffs gave Saru a chance to collect his thoughts. What was happening in the medbay right now felt like chaos and he greatly disliked chaos. What they needed was a clear, direct plan of action and information gathering, not this hodgepodge of meandering questions dancing around important information as to who Lalana's people were. They needed to be taking a scientific, not conversational, approach.

When he returned to the medbay armed with a tray of delicacies arranged in a series of small glass sauce bowls and a padd containing a plan that would hopefully resolve all their many issues, he found Channick finally engaged in a moment of breakthrough.

"Your question is flawed," Lalana was saying. "How can I tell you what does not exist?"

"No diseases, no illnesses?" They were back to that line of questioning with the crucial difference that now Channick was realizing Lalana's earlier answer in the negative was not willful obstinance but an expression of an inability to answer because the question itself was based on a faulty assumption. "But your cells, when they degrade or suffer trauma..."

"If unrepairable, they are reconsumed for materials and energy by the cells surrounding, or in the event of catastrophic contamination, they are eliminated externally."

Channick tugged at her ear as she processed this information. In Saru's absence, she had determined the issue with the translator was not that Lalana lacked knowledge of medical biology, but that her knowledge was an order of magnitude beyond the burgeoning translation matrix. As Channick's questions and explanation became more technical, the computer adjusted its translations accordingly and now doctor and patient were approaching a point of didactic parity. "Can you regenerate all your tissues?"

"What is tissue?"

"Specialized cell group. Like, lung tissue is the cells used for respiration."

"Nn, no, I am not the tissues, the tissues are the framework upon which I am around. I am the cells, and I do not regenerate, only repair as needed. A dead cell cannot be revived. New cells are created if required, but typically the cells which are me are sufficient."

Hasimova squinted at the display on her commandeered station, not quite certain of the translation. "The cells which are you?"

"Yes. I am cells. You are also cells, you simply do not know it."

"We know we're made up of cells," said Channick.

"Yes, but you do not know your cells, and your cells do not know they are you."

That was the phrasing Channick needed to finally make sense of what Lalana was saying. "You have an awareness of your cells?"

"I am cells speaking to you in organization with the assistance of my structural tissues which enable me to operate on the same scale as you do."

Channick wavered, feeling a sudden need to sit down, but there were no chairs in this part of the medbay. She put her hand on the nearest medical slab as her mind swirled with the implications. There was a paper in here, likely a few of them, and perhaps even a nomination for the prestigious Carrington Award. If she could determine the mechanism by which the cells were aware and their relationship to the tissue structures, not to mention the nature of the repair mechanism...

While Channick processed this, Saru put the tray of food down beside Lalana and accessed the padd. "I have several questions for you organized by subject."

"Certainly," said Lalana, sticking her tongue out into the bowl nearest her, which contained lettuce.

The moment Lalana's tongue touched the leafy green, the entirety of her body turned a matching shade, replete with striations of lighter green that mimicked the lettuce veins. Saru, Hasimova, and Channick were amazed by the sight. Lalana's "fur" (which it was now clear was anything but) even seemed to have arranged itself into clumps resembling leafy frills. The only thing left unchanged were her immense, lidless green eyes. They remained a shade of green far brighter than the lettuce.

Lalana rolled the lettuce leaf up in her tongue and pulled it whole into her mouth. "This I can eat," she said once her tongue was returned to its normal position. Next, she stuck her tongue out into a bowl containing a small piece of cooked chicken. She turned the same brownish color as the chicken and her fur flattened, making her much the same color and texture as Saru. Then she withdrew her tongue, declaring the chicken edible but not opting to consume it.

"Remarkable," said Channick. "Do you do this with everything you eat?"

"Oh, no, this is a game Margeh and T'rond'n enjoyed having me perform for guests, so I thought you would enjoy it." Her tongue next went to a slice of orange, producing the most wonderful color effect as she mimicked both the rind and pulp. Hasimova gasped in delight.

"If I may begin," said Saru, glancing at the padd. The first section was labeled _Biology_. The first question under the heading involved respiration and was clearly moot because Lalana was breathing the same air they were and therefore came from an M-class planet, but there might be nuances to her respiration which merited definition, especially now that she had established herself as a very different form of life. Saru took a breath and opened his mouth to ask the first question.

"That is most impressive," Captain Georgiou's voice cut in. She was standing in the medbay entrance, as imposing a figure as ever as her eyes scanned the scene in clear appraisal. "Lalana, your former captors have agreed to assist us in locating your planet and wish a chance to apologize to you. If you do not wish to hear them out, I fully understand."

"I will hear them out," said Lalana, shifting back to her previous blue-grey tone. Georgiou gestured towards the open door and Margeh and T'rond'n entered.

"Lalana," managed Margeh, digging the claws of one hand into the other. "Whatever possessed you to keep this from us..." Georgiou's tongue clicked in disapproval.

"We apologize," declared T'rond'n, his voice a low boom compared to his wife's. "We did not realize that you were... as you are. That does not excuse what happened, but we hope you will forgive us."

"Certainly," said Lalana, which seemed generous of her.

"We will do everything we can to assist in ending the hunt of your people," promised Margeh.

Georgiou spoke again. "There are Federation laws which govern planets like yours which do not have warp drive technology. These laws dictate that we do not interfere with the evolution of your species. To that end, the Federation will endeavor to return you to your planet and stop this atrocity from occurring further."

Lalana's hands pressed tightly together—intently, thought Saru—and she said, "That would be... How will you do this?"

"Together, as is the Federation way," said Georgiou.

* * *

Seated in the middle of the conference table staring out at the stars, Lalana had little new information to offer Georgiou. Aside from the history of invasion and hunting, she knew of no interstellar landmarks that might assist them in locating her planet and possessed no information on the Gentonians who were ransacking her world for profit. "It was a red star," Margeh offered. She, Georgiou, and T'rond'n were sitting around the table in the chairs surrounding it, as intended.

"How would you know?" asked Lalana, tilting her head backward at an angle that suggested her neck bones were capable of spontaneously disconnecting.

Margeh bristled. It was a well-known fact Dartaran visual range was limited when it came to the lower bands of the spectrum. "Because the star was not very bright and was much closer to the planet than most. It could only have been red."

"There were very few stars visible," recalled T'rond'n. "The atmosphere must have been thick."

"The air did smell thick," said Margeh firmly. What Dartarans lacked in color perception, they more than made up for in other ways. "And the Gentonians are on Risa. We have the contact name written down somewhere, I am sure of it. If you could just bring us back to our home, we will find the name in short order."

"We have already been in contact with the Risian authorities. They will provide a list of Gentonians on the planet."

"Our home is only a few hours travel for you," said Margeh. It was not the first time she had suggested to Georgiou that the _Shenzhou_ provide them a free ride back at speeds much faster than the personal transport currently parked in the _Shenzhou_ 's shuttle bay could manage.

"We are already engaged on a mission," replied Georgiou curtly. (Which was true, but while Georgiou was mediating this situation, the pirate mission was on hold. Georgiou simply had no interest in playing chauffeur for the Dartaran couple.)

The comms pinged. "Captain, incoming transmission from Risa."

"Put it through," said Georgiou, pleased by the speed of the Risians' response. The Risians were nothing if not accommodating—as eager to please a far-off Starfleet captain as they were the many tourists who visited their planet.

The woman who appeared on the conference viewscreen was the exact sort of living advertisement for Risa that the Risian Hedony liked to employ as a first point of contact. She was stunningly beautiful, with waves of honeyed hair cascading down her shoulders, deep green eyes, and sun-kissed skin. A traditional Risian disc adorned her forehead and an array of tropical flowers filled the frame behind her. If the woman found anything odd about the sight of a Federation captain, two Dartarans, and a blue alien sitting on top of a table, she showed no outward sign of it. "Warm welcomes from Risa, the most pleasant planet in the galaxy. Minister Karrin has readied the data you requested. Please stand by for transmission." She pressed a button on her console. The _Shenzhou's_ computer registered receipt. "Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

"For the moment, this will suffice," said Georgiou, smiling. "We will be in touch again shortly."

"Certainly," said the woman. "Let us know if you require anything else. We're more than happy to be of service. Thank you for contacting Risa."

"Thank you," said Georgiou, lingering a moment before terminating the connection.

Images, names, and visa details of all the Gentonians on Risa during the period of time six years ago when the Dartarans had arranged their hunting trip appeared on the conference room viewscreen. Georgiou gestured for Margeh, T'rond'n, and Lalana to make of the images what they could.

Lalana moved to the edge of the table nearest the viewscreen, letting Margeh and T'rond'n control the scroll of images while she watched from between their shoulders. Yellow and green faces with whisker-like protrusions above their mouths flitted by. Most were merchants or traders—Gentonians were consummate traders—but there were several tourists in the mix along with the full staff directory of the Gentonian embassy. T'rond'n startled. "There! That is the one. I am certain of it."

The Gentonian in question had pale yellow skin with brownish spots. The name beneath the image was "Beldehen Venel." He was listed as having a merchant license associated with a company called Starway Traders and his current visa status was " _ACTIVE, ON PLANET_."

"Computer, display all Starway Traders employees." Seven Gentonians appeared. "Do you recognize any others?"

Margeh and T'rond'n took their time studying the other names and faces. "No," concluded Margeh. "The only one we ever saw on Risa was Venel, and none of these Gentonians were on the ship that took us to the planet."

"Lalana?" prompted Georgiou. "Do you recognize any of them?"

"Nn," went Lalana, "I do not."

"Venel was not on the expedition himself," said Margeh. "He merely arranged our transport."

Georgiou pressed the intercom button on the conference table console for the bridge. "Please contact Minister Karrin on Risa." The communications officers on the bridge responded in the affirmative. Georgiou considered Lalana and suggested, "Perhaps you would like to sit in a chair?"

"No," said Lalana lightly, curling her tail around her legs.

The response from Risa was swift. This time, the Risian woman did not appear on the screen. Instead, a hologram of a male Risian appeared standing in the conference room with brown skin, dark hair and eyes, and an effusive smile. He had the same traditional disc on his forehead and was wearing a blue suit with a white sash. "Captain Georgiou," he greeted, clearly expecting her.

Georgiou wasted no time. "We have identified a person of interest in an ongoing violation of Starfleet's General Order One." With a flick of her finger, Georgiou sent Venel's details to Karrin. "I am with two Dartarans and a member of the aggrieved species who can corroborate this violation. According to the data you sent, the individual is on Risa at present. He must be detained immediately."

Karrin's smile faltered. Risians disliked the appearance of police authority. Risa was largely a safe place to visit, but it was not without its share of crime, mostly because the Risians found it preferable to compensate victims after the fact than to foster an atmosphere of oppressive security that would more fully prevent incidents. "General Order One?"

"Exploitation of a pre-warp species," clarified Georgiou. On the conference table, Lalana began to knock the knuckles of her hands together. T'rond'n noted this with concern but remained quiet and still in his seat.

"That is..." Karrin's face clouded. A moment later, it cleared into firm resolve. "We'll assist in any way we can." He took a step to the side, pressing a finger to an unseen console on his end of the transmission. "Sollis, are you available?"

The Risian woman from before appeared on the conference room viewscreen as she patched herself into the transmission. "Yes, minister."

"Can you locate someone for us? Discreetly."

"Certainly." It took her only a moment to perform the task. "Beldehen Venel left Risa twenty minutes ago."

Thirty minutes ago, the _Shenzhou_ had requested information on Gentonians from the Risian authorities. That simple request had evidently been enough to tip Venel off.

On the table, Lalana clicked her tongue. "Oh, that is too bad," she said. "It seems I will never return home now."

* * *

Saru was convinced of his overall failure in the meager soft first contact task he had requested, so it came as a welcome surprise when Georgiou ordered him to escort Lalana to guest quarters from the conference room. He appeared at the door and stood in stiff, observant attention, his padd of questions still in hand. Lalana amiably strode out to join him in the hallway without a single word of farewell towards Georgiou, Margeh, or T'rond'n. Her only words were to Saru. "Shall we go?"

Saru looked across the conference room at Georgiou. She seemed mildly amused by this lapse of decorum. Not all aliens placed the same value on the niceties that fell under the heading of human good manners, as common as the basic concepts of greeting and farewells were across most cultures and species. "Captain?" called Saru, seeking her permission. Georgiou responded by merely waving her hand at him dismissively and the doors slid shut.

Lalana stared up at Saru expectantly, balancing on a combination of her legs and tail. Saru made a gesture of his own, indicating the direction of the nearest turbolift. "This way."

Absent a human escort, Saru took a large step in the indicated direction. He was about to self-correct himself to a shorter stride when he realized Lalana matched the distance without trouble and seemed to be perfectly at home doing so. Though she was barely a third of his height, she had very long legs with an extra joint that made them stretch out more horizontally than vertically. He opted to continue at his natural walking gait and felt strangely reassured by the way she glided down the hallway at his side.

"I feel I should inform you," he said when the wonder of the moment had passed, "humans and many other species find it customary to offer words when arriving and departing a location."

"Yes, I have observed this behavior often," said Lalana as they arrived at the turbolift doors.

Which meant she knew how it worked. Had her wordless departure been an intentional slight against the others in the room? Saru asked as delicately as he could, "Your people do not have such a custom?"

"No. This is not something my people typically do."

That would seem to explain it, then, though Saru imagined she might well harbor lingering resentment towards the Dartarans for their role in her captivity. The turbolift arrived and they stepped inside. "It was very magnanimous of you to accept the Dartarans' apology despite what they did to you."

"What they did to me?"

"Yes, hunting you and keeping you captive for so many years."

"It was not so long and I do not mind it," said Lalana. "It is over now regardless." The turbolift doors opened onto deck four and they exited. "Now I suppose I shall have to watch Federation walls."

"Certainly not," Saru assured her. "We will bring you back to your planet. Captain Georgiou is a very accomplished captain and will no doubt be successful."

"Nnn," hummed Lalana. "And if she is not? What then?"

Saru pressed his fingers together uncertainly. He did not doubt Georgiou's success and had not given the possibility much thought. Thinking on it now, he found he had no answer. "We will deal with that eventuality should it come to pass. I assure you, the Federation will provide whatever accommodations you require."

"As Margeh and T'rond'n did?"

That gave Saru pause. Twice now he had heard Lalana describe the Federation in unflattering terms. First, over the ship-to-ship communications, where she had declared herself uninterested in being subjected to "Federation machinations," and then in the medbay, where she had described herself as having been "captured by the Federation."

"We will not confine you," promised Saru. "The purpose of the Federation is to unite the peoples of many worlds so that we may collectively flourish in an environment of peaceful cooperation, and to provide freedom, justice, and opportunity for all citizens."

Lalana's hands suddenly began to spin. "Is it? I have always heard that the Federation is largely interested in regulating and restricting trade."

"That is demonstrably untrue," said Saru, wondering where she would have gotten that idea.

"I wonder which is more true, the description a person has of themselves, or the descriptions others have of the person." They had arrived at the guest quarters. Lalana went straight to the window and the vista of stars. She looked out for a moment, then turned to Saru, hands still spinning. "Whether the walls are Dartaran or Federation, it has been worth it to meet a new form of life which I had not seen previously."

"That is... why I joined Starfleet," said Saru, surprised.

"Then you were right. We are not so different. Now, what questions did you have to ask?"


	3. Don't Sit Down

A/N: So, it is surprisingly hard to craft an alien parable out of thin air! I managed it in the end.

Also, am in Birmingham this weekend for Destination Star Trek. Feel free to drop me a line if you are as well!

* * *

The scientific inquest continued all through the night. "Are you not tired?" asked Saru when the hour began to grow late and his duty shift had long since ended. They were sitting at the dining table in the guest room, the taller chairs slightly more comfortable for Saru than the softer couch and armchair on the other side of the room, while Lalana perched atop the table with her appendages tucked beneath her body.

"I do not require sleep," she said. "But if you are tired, then by all means, Lieutenant Saru, I will wait for you to rest."

"Kelpiens do not require as much sleep as most other species. I was merely concerned that you might."

"No. My cortex system requires rest occasionally, but I can cycle through resting portions of it, and of course I am always awake on the cellular level."

That was one of the many amazing things Saru had been able to examine more thoroughly in the inquest. Lalana was not possessed of a single mind, but in a sense, had one plus a trillion. Her species was the result of symbiotic evolution between a colony of cells and a primitive multicellular organism. Her eyes, brain stem, skeletal structure, and tongue were all derived from the organism, but the cell colony had replaced every other tissue and was essentially controlling the organism's structural remains like the _Ophiocordyceps unilateralis_ fungus did in certain species of Earth ants. It was an inverse of the typical model of life in the known universe, where a centralized brain controlled the rest of an organism. Here, the rest of the organism controlled the "brain." Her cortex structure was less a true center of cognitive function and more a switchboard for the rest of her.

"Is it possible for individual cells to disagree?" Saru wondered.

"Why would we?" asked Lalana. Further forays into this line of questioning revealed that the idea was as inconceivable to her as the concept of a lului disease. "My cells chose to be me."

There were also several questions from Dr. Channick and her staff as to the particular physical characteristics of Lalana's biology. "Your cells change color, can they also change physical configuration?"

"Not entirely. My cells are locked together permanently. If one becomes disconnected, it immediately degrades." She demonstrated this for Saru, letting a single tendril of her "fur" fall from her tail. It fell to the table and writhed faintly as it dissolved into a thin line of oily residue that seemed to evaporate into the air before Saru's eyes.

It also turned out Lalana was being entirely literal where the length of her captivity relative her age was concerned.

"A cycle is not the length of time it takes Luluan to orbit Luluanilem," she informed him when he asked about the concept in more detail. _Luluanilem_ was the name of the lului star system—while language was not a primary focus of Saru's inquest, he was learning a great deal about it as they spoke. Essentially, the lului language was composed of complex layers of modifiers. _Lu_ was the name for the cellular species, _lulu_ was a group of cells coupled with a symbiotic structure into a discrete microcellular organism, _lului_ was an adjective or possessive used for the collective species, while _Luluan_ meant lulu-planet and _Luluanilem_ was lulu-planet-star. "Luluan's orbit is not so long. It would be very tedious to use it as a... calendar unit." The concept of a calendar was foreign to Lalana's species, but she understood it well enough from living with the Dartarans. "We measure time by a _lulala_."

"A... _lulala?_ " They were also filling in translator gaps as they went.

"A streaming white space object which orbits our star."

A comet. Their version of a year was a comet cycle, and when Saru ran the calculations based on the length of the day on the moon where the Dartaran couple lived and Lalana's assurance that she understood the difference in day length between that moon and her homeworld within a reasonable degree of accuracy, he ended up with an estimated cycle length of one hundred and twenty-five years.

The current cycle had been more than three-quarters of the way through when Lalana was taken from Luluan, making her more than nine hundred years old. Suddenly the idea that six years of captivity was unremarkable made complete sense.

It also meant the mysterious planetary invaders, the _Hla-pu_ , had come to Luluan some five hundred years ago. Saru found himself listening to an unintended aside into this history when he asked another of Dr. Channick's questions on the subject of lului and disease.

"It is not correct to say my cells are universally resistant, certainly there are things which can kill me. The Hla-pu employed a biological agent against my people in one of their many attempts to colonize our planet. I was aboveground when they deployed it. It moved through the air, a cloud of purple smoke that stripped the leaves from the trees. I made it into the water before the smoke could reach me, but Lumlala was not so lucky. Half his body was consumed by the smoke. It melted away his cells and left only his skeletal system on one side." Her hands knocked together in clear distress at this memory but stilled as she concluded, "We were able to salvage what remained of him and, not long after, the Hla-pu left."

For all the atrocity of being hunted, Saru could scarcely imagine the horror of what Lalana was describing. He sat there in shocked silence.

The door chimed. It was Georgiou. Saru rose unsteadily to his feet. "Have you been here all night?" Georgiou asked, mistaking the unsteadiness for fatigue.

"I..." For once, Saru's inability to answer had nothing to do with his usual nerves. Not that Georgiou could tell.

"This is why I do not keep important information on the cells on my surface," Lalana continued as if Georgiou had not entered. "Do you know, when the hunters take trophies like our skulls, they think those trophies are us, but they are not us, they are the framework upon which we sit!" Her tongue clicked, likely because this practice reminded her of the horrible fate of Lumlala.

"Am I interrupting?" asked Georgiou.

"Of course," said Lalana. "What have you come to say?"

Georgiou managed not to take offense at Lalana's insubordinate disregard for the rank of captain. She was, after all, dealing with a more primitive species then the average spacefarer. "It would seem Beldehen Venel has escaped. We are working to secure a connection to your homeworld and your people, but at present I cannot guarantee our success in these endeavors."

"Is that so?" said Lalana, spinning her hands. Saru had his back to her and did not notice the motion. He would have been very confused if he had. Over the course of their conversation, he had gotten the impression that spinning hands were a sign of happiness.

"We will continue to investigate. Until more is known, we will escort you to a Federation starbase. The authorities there will provide you with further assistance."

The hand-spinning ceased. "A star-base? What is a star-base?"

"A structure in space," supplied Saru. "A point from which starships travel and resupply."

"Nn, that is interesting," said Lalana, pressing her hands together and staring down at the floor in apparent thought.

Georgiou shifted her attention back to Saru. "Am I to expect you at your station on the bridge when your shift begins, lieutenant?"

"Of course, captain." There were still two hours before his shift began, which was sufficient time for a change of uniform and even a brief nap if he decided to forego any more questions.

Georgiou's eye narrowed ever-so-slightly in judgment. She would be doubly attentive for any lapses in Saru's performance today in light of his overnight engagement. "I look forward to it," said Georgiou with a note of challenge. She moved to the door and hesitated, looking back at Lalana. "You should know that a table is not considered an appropriate place to sit."

"Oh, yes, I am well aware," said Lalana, clicking her tongue twice.

The audacity of that did not sit well with Georgiou. "Saru, please instruct Lalana in basic social protocols before we arrive at Starbase 55. I would hate for there to be any further misunderstandings or mistakes. You may not find all species are forgiving of social impropriety."

"Yes, captain," promised Saru, pressing his hands together and bowing slightly in deference as the door slid shut.

"How presumptuous of Captain Georgiou to assume I have made any mistakes whatsoever," said Lalana as she moved from the table to the chair.

Saru stood there with the sinking feeling that his involvement in this situation had not endeared him in any way to his captain. Sadly, his ganglia were in agreement.

* * *

The investigation was officially at a standstill. Unable to provide any further material benefit, Margeh and T'rond'n were instructed to return home aboard their remaining personal transport. Margeh's final request for the _Shenzhou_ to drop them off fell upon deaf ears. Though Georgiou now found Margeh significantly more endearing after entertaining her and her husband for dinner the previous evening, the _Shenzhou_ was a Federation exploratory vessel and the pirate hunting mission was already well beneath its regard. To perform not one but two civilian transports on top of this would be rubbing salt in the wound.

Curiously, the Dartarans expressed a desire to bid farewell to Lalana. Georgiou had Saru escort the lului to the shuttlebay. She arrived as cheerfully irreverent as ever, bounding across the bay with a pair of leaps long enough that even Saru would have had trouble replicating the distance had he been inclined to display that level of informality while on duty. She came to an abrupt stop between Georgiou, T'Vora, and the Dartarans. The extra joint in her legs made the motion seem entirely effortless.

"I had a very interesting time on your estate," was Lalana's greeting. "I learned so very many things about trade and business from watching you work."

The spiky ridges along Margeh's jaw visibly tightened. "You..."

"I also learned so many things about 'confidence,' a word which has two meanings in the human language. One of them is self-assurance and the other is secrecy." (Absent Saru for the past few hours, Lalana had been engaged with a communications officer, Paxton, in a linguistic survey both were finding entirely fruitful.) "Confidence in hand and head equally. Which into which, I wonder? Water or sand?"

T'rond'n seemed to shrink slightly, looking at Margeh for some sort of sign. The female Dartaran opened her mouth faintly, the spikes of her teeth showing in a way that felt strangely non-threatening—this was a Dartaran display of humility. "You know the lesson of Karletin?"

"As well as you," said Lalana.

Of the three Starfleet officers in observation, only T'Vora recognized what Lalana and the Dartarans were discussing because she alone had taken the time to parse the Dartaran cultural archives to the level of detail required to catch the reference. D'rannur was a mythic philosopher (analogous to the father of Vulcan logic, Surak) who originated a Dartaran philosophy called the Head and the Hand. In this philosophy, male Dartarans were tasked with commerce, production, logistics, and trade, while females dominated sciences, culture, and spirituality. It was a primitive binary gender philosophy that espoused female intelligence and male efficiency as two components required in balance for a functional society. Unlike many other such primitive philosophies in various bi-gendered species across the galaxy, the Dartaran version persisted and defined their society to this day.

The tale of Karletin was found in the D'rannic Codices—a supplemental set of texts describing D'rannur's life and offering largely anecdotal parables of dubious historical accuracy. Karletin was a brother of D'rannur's mate who violated the sanctity of the homestead by selling original notes and writings to finance a business venture. When D'rannur discovered what had happened, she sabotaged Karletin's business by mixing water into his sand pits and turning them to mud. The moral was that, like sand and water, the Head and the Hand ought to remain separate, and that betraying the homestead would lead to muddy waters. (Dartarans loved sand and water, but only separately, never together.)

The story was considered apocryphal among scholars because Karletin appeared only in this one tale and there were no uncontested historical records to support his existence, but it was enduringly popular and often featured in Dartaran wedding vows.

T'Vora realized that Lalana was essentially telling the Dartarans she had the ability to violate the sanctity of their homestead given the time she had lived with them, but also that she had no intention to do so, and she was saying this in a manner that demonstrated an almost frightening ability to obfuscate the subject matter at hand.

"Then do not make mud," was Margeh's solemn reply.

"I wish we could have helped you more, and sooner," said T'rond'n.

Lalana slid towards T'rond'n and stretched up, pressing her hands onto his chest for balance and flicking her tongue out into his mouth, running the tip across his teeth.

Margeh's response was a shriek of displeasure. "Stop that!"

"Please be mindful of your gums," said Lalana, withdrawing and settling back down onto her haunches so she was at waist height.

Saru was startled by every aspect of this exchange: the rudeness of it in light of Georgiou's recent admonition about impropriety, the intimacy of the action, the familiarity it seemed to require, Margeh's sharp objection, and the vague sense that this was something T'rond'n and Lalana had done in the past when T'rond'n considered Lalana a lower, animal-level life form. It was a very uncomfortable train of thought.

Margeh grabbed T'rond'n's arm and yanked him half a step closer to her. "How dare you," she said.

"You did not mind this yesterday," said Lalana. "Has something changed since then?"

Margeh hissed and T'rond'n's jaw spikes bristled slightly in affront. They bid Georgiou a significantly more standard farewell and stepped into their transport.

As the shuttle slid through the bay forcefield, Georgiou announced, "Saru, until further notice, you are relieved of bridge duty. Please focus fully on assisting Lalana acclimate to Federation society."

It was a significant blow to Saru's already waning confidence. He stiffened. "Yes, captain." As they made their way back to the guest quarters, Saru consoled himself with the thought that Georgiou's assignment was not truly an indictment of his abilities and performance. It was more likely a redistribution of resources to where they were needed most. Not only was Saru the person on the ship who knew their alien guest best, he was also possessed of a sterling reputation for impeccable good manners.

Georgiou was entirely a great captain, Saru decided. Even though she clearly held no love for Lalana, she was doing everything she could to ensure that Lalana had the knowledge necessary to succeed in her new Federation existence.

He approached the topic as delicately as he was able once they were in privacy of the room and they had retaken their position at the dining table—both of them seated in chairs now. "Lalana, if you will recall, the captain advised against actions which would be construed as impolite. I must inform you that your behavior with T'rond'n was entirely so."

"Yes, I am aware," said Lalana.

This shocked Saru. "Then why did you behave in this manner?"

"Dartarans are very territorial about their mates," she explained, which was not the answer to the question Saru had been asking.

He thought a moment. "I am aware of the unforgivable offense that Margeh and T'rond'n have committed, both in hunting you and removing you from your planet, but they were very willing to help us correct these issues and assist you. Perhaps they would have helped you sooner had they been given the chance."

Lalana twisted her head almost a hundred and eighty degrees. "Did you think their words were true? They are sorry for the situation now because they have been exposed. Had I attempted to broach the subject to them directly during the years I spent with them, they would have done everything in their power to avoid the perception of wrongdoing."

There was a note of darkness in that assessment which gave Saru pause. "I apologize. I do not mean to doubt your knowledge of your former captors."

"No, that was wise of you. To you, I am hardly a known quantity." Lalana shifted in her seat, sitting up straighter and gripping the edge of the table with her heterodactylic hands, two fingers above and two below. "Everything is about perception, Saru. The universe we see is what we know, though it is not what is, because we cannot see everything."

Saru could see himself in her eyes, so immense and reflective were the glassy surfaces of her unblinking lenses. "We should commence with reviewing some basic diplomatic protocols," he said simply.

"Very well, but may I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Minoru"—this was communications officer Lt. Paxton's given name—"has told me there are no trees for climbing on a starbase, and no ponds to swim in. I very much wish to climb trees and swim again. May I go somewhere with trees and water?"

"I will compile a list of suitable candidates for you."

"There is no need. I already know where I wish to go."

* * *

The request was significant enough Saru felt it warranted informing Georgiou. The moment he did, a new problem cropped up: because she did not register on sensors, the holocomm system in Georgiou's ready room was unable to render Lalana's form properly, distorting and twisting her shape into something unrecognizable. Georgiou switched the signal to audio-only.

"I would like to go to Risa," said Lalana's translated voice.

"Risa?" echoed Georgiou.

"Yes. I have heard it is the most pleasant planet in the galaxy."

There was no doubting Risa was a paradise like no other, but Georgiou inwardly doubted if Lalana would fully appreciate the pleasures the planet had to offer given her non-humanoid physiology. Then again, Risians were nothing if not accommodating, so perhaps she would.

"That can be arranged," promised Georgiou, "though you will have to travel there from the starbase." Lalana agreed to this condition wholeheartedly.

It was a shame that the signal was only audio. If they had been able to see one another, Georgiou and Lalana would have recognized a sympathetic similarity between them. Lalana was spinning her hands in a move of contentment that entirely matched the faint smile on Georgiou's face at the memory of Risa.


	4. The Certainty of Small Things

With a course laid in for Starbase 55, the USS _Shenzhou_ entered the final phase of its regular duty roster: the graveyard night shift. It was an eight-hour window for the majority of the crew to rest and would put the ship on target for arrival at the starbase first thing in the morning.

Neither objective was realized. At 0441, a call came in that only the _Shenzhou_ could possibly hope to answer in time.

Georgiou awoke to an emergency comm from the graveyard shift chief, Commander Penning. "Captain, USS _Triton_ has sent a distress signal. They've run into the pirates. ETA twelve minutes." The _Triton_ was an old workhorse of a ship, slated for decommission in less than six months, its captain on the cusp of retirement. It had been assigned to the same pirate search as the _Shenzhou_ owing to the vastness of the territory in need of scouring.

"I'm on my way." Thirty seconds later, the general call went out for all hands to battle stations.

T'Vora was already in the turbolift when Georgiou stepped inside. The doors opened onto the bridge and Penning immediately vacated the captain's chair with an update: "Seven minutes."

"Thank you, commander," said Georgiou, smoothly settling into the chair as T'Vora took up a position behind the tactical console with a curt nod, indicating the Andorian currently stationed there, Lt. Cmdr. ch'Theloh, should maintain his station while she observed. Penning moved to take over the operations station from the junior officer stationed there.

"Four enemy combatants," ch'Theloh reported. "One freighter, two Andorian strike craft, and a Tellarite cruiser. The asteroid is outfitted with both heavy phasers and torpedo launchers." The _Triton_ had done more than encounter the pirates—it had discovered their base of operations.

"Red alert," ordered Georgiou. "Hail the _Triton_."

The _Triton_ 's captain, Chaudhuri, appeared as a flat image on the _Shenzhou_ 's main viewscreen rather than a projection because unlike the _Shenzhou_ , the _Triton_ was not outfitted with a holocomm system. Chaudhuri had dark grey hair streaked nearly white along the temples and was currently shirtless, having been woken from slumber with such immediacy he had not had time to dress. He immediately launched into a terse status report. "Captain. We've lost our warp drive. Forward shields are compromised."

There was a sputter of sparks behind Chaudhuri. "Aft torpedoes down!" shouted the man at the _Triton_ 's tactical console.

"Evasive pattern Delta-6!" was Chaudhuri's reply.

"Give me more speed," Georgiou ordered. Someone down in engineering scrambled to divert as many power systems as could be spared to eke out enough of an increase to get them there twenty seconds sooner. Georgiou barely noticed; she was too busy prepping a battle plan and watching the movements of the enemy ships. "As soon as we drop out of warp, fire all phasers on the freighter. Disable its weapons, avoid drive systems. Torpedoes on the asteroid armaments on my mark. We must draw fire from the _Triton_. Second phaser target, the cruiser."

"Aye, captain," said ch'Theloh. Georgiou did not question why T'Vora was not on the station. She supposed her first officer thought the more well-rested Andorian would have sharper reaction times.

Their arrival at the battle was greeted by a salvo of phaser fire from the Tellarite cruiser and one of the smaller strike craft. The array of batteries affixed to the asteroid remained focused on the _Triton_ , which was doing everything it could to avoid or direct all hits against it, gliding around in frantic spirals on impulse engines alone. Most of the asteroid's batteries were weapons stripped off various spaceships. It made for a hodgepodge of colorful fire in almost every shade imaginable.

Ch'Theloh carried out Georgiou's attack plans with quick competence, enabling Georgiou to direct the helm to bring them about between the _Triton_ and the bulk of the asteroid's attack. The freighter's weapons went down under the focused force of the _Shenzhou_ 's phasers. The freighter immediately turned about, heading for an escape vector. Georgiou let it go, more concerned with reducing the threat to the _Triton_.

The cruiser was a fiercer opponent. Heavily armored and shielded, it barely seemed to register the _Shenzhou_ 's phasers.

Not that this mattered. The cruiser was a feint.

"Fire all torpedoes," said Georgiou.

The force of the unified launch was so tremendous the command deck of the _Shenzhou_ registered the tremor. An arc of glowing pellets shot out towards the asteroid in an absolutely beautiful formation: tight enough to be focused on a small target area, but not so tight as to be taken out by an individual countermeasure.

Two torpedoes went down in the asteroid base's attempt to respond. The other six impacted against two batteries and triggered an explosion of yellow bursts like pustules of energy popping. The lights on the asteroid base flickered and died. A moment later, a larger, red-hued explosion erupted as the asteroid's power reactor overloaded.

The Tellarite cruiser and the two strike craft responded to the loss of the base by breaking off their attacks and turning tail, each warping away in a different direction. The battle was won. Damage to the _Shenzhou_ was minimal. Shield systems and some minor cosmetic damage to the hull plating.

"Can you take on wounded?" Chaudhuri asked.

"Certainly," said Georgiou. "Sickbay, prepare to receive _Triton_ wounded."

* * *

When the alert sounded, Saru and Lalana were coincidentally in the middle of a conversation about Tellarites spurred by a line of questioning into whether all species were truly so invested in good manners. Saru had been forced to admit that the Tellarites, a founding Federation member known for their engineering prowess, preferred to initiate social contact with arguments and insults. "This is delightful," declared Lalana. "To air grievances honestly is to facilitate forthright interactions."

"This is not an indication that the Tellarites do not believe in manners. Their Civil Conversation is a structured approach to—"

"All hands to battle stations."

Suddenly, the reason for the _Shenzhou_ 's course change a minute earlier became clear. Saru's threat ganglia shot out. "We must go," he declared.

Lalana did not share his concerns. Her hands spun. "A battle? Between spaceships? I would like to see this. Will it be visible through the window?"

"It is not safe. We must move to the ship's interior."

"There is nowhere in the universe which is safe," she replied.

"Nevertheless," said Saru. Lalana stopped spinning her hands and followed him into the hall.

Initially, the halls were empty, but as the rest of the crew roused from a slumber Saru and Lalana did not share, crewmembers appeared and moved briskly past them to assigned locations. For some, that was engineering and maintenance support posts to stand ready to deal with any ensuing damage. For most, it was interior compartments where they would strap in and ride out the danger. Those unfortunate crew who had windowless rooms on the ship's interior were for once lucky: they could ride out the danger in place.

Aware Lalana had no such assigned space, Saru headed for a science lab he knew would be deserted at this hour. The lab lights came on as they entered. The room contained an abundance of empty transparent aluminum chambers and monitors designed for all manner of biology experiments. A stripe of red flashed across every monitor as the ship entered red alert and the lighting dimmed to combat-ready levels.

The emergency seating in the walls was just passably suitable for Saru—less so Lalana. Her physiology was so alien she seemed likely to slip out from the safety belt in the event of a heavy shock.

"Do not worry," said Lalana, "I will _lemalallen_ to the surface."

This was not a concept they had so far covered. As Saru took his seat, Lalana explained. " _Lemalallen_ is when you twine your cells into the surface of something." The word was uniquely lului, one of those untranslatable concepts with no equivalent in English or Kelpien capable of accurately conveying the nuance of its meaning.

The _Shenzhou_ dropped out of warp and was hit by a volley of phaser fire that elicited a distinctive auditory vibration from the shields. Saru's ganglia, which had only just slipped back into the folds along the back of his head, reemerged. Lalana continued uninterrupted with a description that would have better suited a conversation with Paxton than Saru. "The word is a compound of _lema_ , which means object, and _lallen_ , which is when two lului sit in close proximity and twine their fur together."

The _Shenzhou_ returned fire. Saru gripped the straps on his safety belt and closed his eyes. "What—What is the purpose of it?" he asked, desperate for a conversation that would take his mind off the battle underway.

"For lemalallen the purpose is to secure yourself in a place, and for lallen, it is to experience connection with another. Lului very much enjoy physical contact."

The gravity generators strained under the forces of evasive maneuvers, pulling them to the side. True to her word, Lalana barely moved. Her explanation continued in the calm, artificially cheerful tone of the computer's translation.

"Though our bodies are discrete, it is preferable for us to experience being a part of a larger whole the same way our cells are a part of us, and one way is to have our discrete cellular networks in proximity with the discrete cellular networks of another."

A tremor shook the room as all the _Shenzhou_ 's torpedoes fired. Ten seconds later, the ship went still and quiet. The battle was over. The lighting switched from emergency settings back to regular operational levels as the red alert ended. Saru's ganglia retracted fully.

"Captain Georgiou is a highly competent tactical commander," was all Saru could think to say. Then: "We must remain in place until the all clear has been sounded." It was important to keep the halls easily navigable for repair crews.

Another minute ticked by. Saru did not find the emergency seating very comfortable. "We may move about the room." As Saru undid his safety belt, Lalana slid out from hers without undoing the latch, confirming Saru's initial assessment.

They stood there in the science lab surrounded by empty transparent aluminum chambers, waiting monitors, and offline experimental protocols and Saru found himself at a loss. Continued conversation about Tellarites suddenly seemed unfathomably absurd. Lalana stared at him as if expecting something. Saru went to check the battle logs on one of the consoles. "It would appear we have encountered the pirates we were tracking prior to encountering you and engaged in battle with them."

The doors slid open, revealing a woman in white silk pajamas with a snarl of honey-brown hair twisted around her head. She was not a member of the _Shenzhou_ 's crew. Her dark, watery eyes registered surprise. "I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone was in here," she blurted, turning away.

"Wait," said Lalana. "You are upset. What is wrong?"

The woman hesitated. Two _Shenzhou_ crewmen came jogging down the hall with toolkits in hand and the woman darted into the science lab. The door slid shut behind her. "I'm sorry," she sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "It's just—my wife—"

"What is your name?" asked Lalana.

"Lieu—Lieutenant Yoon. Hydroponics, USS _Triton_."

"And your friends call you what?"

"Daisy."

"Then, Daisy, will you sit and tell me what has happened?" Lalana pressed her tail against Yoon's arm, gently guiding her to the emergency seats.

Gradually, a picture emerged. The _Triton_ had been sweeping search targets deemed minor and unlikely during the graveyard hours and stumbled across the pirates accidentally. The ensuing battle had seen the ship's crew roused mostly from a state of deep slumber. Yoon's wife, Morita, was senior security chief and chief tactical officer but had been unable to reach the bridge and detoured to a torpedo bay instead to assist from there. A lucky or skillful strike by the enemy had caused the bay to catch fire mid-launch. Morita and several other wounded had beamed over the _Shenzhou_ in the battle's aftermath and Yoon accompanied them, unwilling to leave her wife's side.

Throughout this explanation, Lalana kept her tail on Yoon's hand. Eventually, Yoon took hold of the appendage and clutched it like a lifeline. Saru was surprised how easily comforting the young officer came to Lalana. Kelpiens, being comforted by so very little in the grand scheme of things, were not known for their skills in this area.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" Yoon squeaked at the story's end.

"Let us go find out."

"They—they told me to leave," said Yoon, shaking her head. The duty nurse's exact words had been that there was nothing Yoon could do in sickbay but get in the way, which sounded harsh, except the nurse's tone had been exceedingly sympathetic and kind.

"Forever?" asked Lalana.

Yoon hesitated. "No..."

"Then let us go. Perhaps it no longer applies."

"I can check patient status—" began Saru, but too late. Lalana was already drawing Yoon to the door. He finished lamely, "—on the monitors."

"The only way to truly know things is to see them with your own eyes," said Lalana. "Anything else is an echo of the truth."

When they arrived in sickbay, it was to the sight of a body covered by a sheet. Yoon stepped tentatively forward, her face going slack. A four-eyed Kakravite moved to block her path. He was the _Triton_ 's chief medical officer, Dr. Ek'Ez. "Daisy, no—"

"Da Hee," called a voice. A woman with short, dark hair was on the medical slab in the corner directly to the left of the door. Yoon gasped and ran to her, stopping just short of an embrace. Burns covered the right half of Morita's body, her modesty maintained by the presence of a blanket against her chest because most of her tank top had been incinerated. She was holding a dermal regenerator in her left hand and using it on herself. Yoon scooted over to Morita's left side and tentatively pressed a cheek against Morita's unburnt shoulder. Morita winced as her hand fell into her lap.

Saru questioned the wisdom of infringing upon this clearly private moment as he trailed Lalana to join the couple. Neither human seemed to take much note of their alien onlookers in the moment. Yoon looked over at the body under the sheet. "Then..."

Morita swallowed. "Walter Chen. He was... inside the field. I tried... I tried to pull him out..." She shook her head. "I told him... It was my fault he was in there."

Yoon drew back, hiccoughed in distress, and covered her mouth with her hand as big, wet tears renewed the tracks of damp salt already painted across her face. Morita's face twisted with unvoiced anguish.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, Reiko," Yoon managed.

"You have much damage to your surface," said Lalana, stretching up alongside Morita's slab. "May I assist you?"

The tissue regenerator was laying on the blanket across Morita's lap. Morita held it out tentatively. Lalana took the device and put it down on the slab's edge, instead pressing the flat of her tail directly against Morita's burned skin. What exactly she was doing, none of them could tell, least of all Morita, but the shock of the action was temporary distraction from the grief.

"Please let me know if there is any discomfort. I have only been in proximal contact with human cells once before."

"No, it's..." Morita shifted slightly, glancing between Yoon and Saru with confusion. "It feels much better."

"If you continue to use your technology device, it will go much faster together, I think," said Lalana.

Morita picked up the regenerator and switched it back on. "Who are you?"

"This is Lalana," offered Yoon, drying her eyes on her sleeve. "She stayed with me while I was outside."

"Yes, Daisy was very kind to tell me some of what happened on your ship. And this is Lieutenant Junior Grade Saru, but you may call him Saru."

Hovering to the side, Saru gripped his hands together in discomfort. He had not given Lalana permission to extend that measure of familiarity to their guests, and as harmless as it was, he would have liked to make the determination for himself. It was one of those tiny measures of control that seemed insignificant but meant a great deal when you came from a species that traditionally had control over very little in their lives. Saru shuffled a half-step forward and craned his neck. "This is... _lallen_?"

" _Lelu_ lallen," clarified Lalana. "Piercing the cellular barrier to assist in repairs. Though the cellular structures of humans are different from my own, we share many of the same basic materials of life. I am providing your cells with nutrients from mine and assisting in the removal of harmful microbes. I also offer my surface as a support for repairs."

"Thank you," said Morita, hesitantly polite. It did seem to go faster, the two of them working in tandem, but Lalana's choice of first aid methodology drew the attention of the _Triton_ 's doctor and he hurried over, all four of his eyes wide with alarm. The ensuing explanation of the technique did little to settle his fears, especially when his medical tricorder failed to register Lalana as a life form.

"This is an untested medical procedure," he fretted. "There might be any number of contagions, interspecies incompatibility, radiation or..." He faltered. The tricorder failed to register Lalana, but his scan of Morita was showing significant improvement in the affected areas.

"I consented," Morita offered, not that she actually had until now.

"Ek!" bellowed a hulking brute of a man on the other side of the room with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was shirtless and seemed to have roughly as much hair on his chest and arms as he did his head. Ek'Ez wavered.

"You will tell me at the first sign of anything and I will monitor you closely upon return to the _Triton_ ," said Ek'Ez. The man across the room yelled again, apparently taking affront at something one of the _Shenzhou_ 's nursing staff was doing to his leg. Ek'Ez hurried back over, shouting in reply, "I am coming, Lieutenant Larsson, please restrain yourself!" Saru startled as the aforementioned Larsson banged an angry fist on the surface of his slab and proceeded to argue loudly with Ek'Ez about the way his broken leg had been reset.

"I can't believe him," said Yoon softly, shaking her head at the display.

Morita was less judgmental. "Walter was his friend."

"Was he also yours?" asked Lalana.

Somehow, the answer to this question seemed to make things worse. "I barely knew him," said Morita. She left unexplained the details of their service together—how she had come aboard the _Triton_ six months earlier in the position of Chen's supervisor and been assessing his performance for reassignment pending the _Triton_ 's upcoming decommission. She did know Chen as a colleague and a marginally competent officer, but in the aftermath of his death, she felt she had not known him nearly well enough as he deserved.

Lalana shifted her tail from one patch of skin to another, asking, "Did he choose to be where he was?"

Saru decided her curiosity was aberrantly inappropriate in this context. "Lalana, perhaps..."

She ignored the half-formed warning and continued, "You said it was your 'fault' that this event has happened. This is not a concept my people have a word for. It is a thousand million tiny interactions which lead us to the place in which we stand. There is no one moment or person who is more responsible for any outcome. Events are a cumulative result of all events which came before them.

"In my short time with Starfleet, I have observed that all of you choose to be here, seeing the stars, which is something I can well understand. To see even a sliver of this celestial vastness is an incredible delight. If Walter Chen chose this like you and Daisy and Saru do, then he was in a place he wished to be, doing a thing he wished to do, and his life was well-lived and his death well-chosen. That, to my people, is considered the most important thing there is, to be able to choose your own death. During the years I spent with Margeh and T'rond'n, I learned that this is a rare thing. So many living creatures die in places they do not choose, doing things they do not wish to. Walter Chen was not among them. Walter Chen was in Starfleet."

Morita took this in carefully and calmly. The sentiment of _he died doing what he loved_ was as true as it was insufficient recompense for the loss of a life. She understood that this strange alien was attempting to offer comfort, fraught as the attempt was with functionally meaningless information because neither she nor Yoon knew who Margeh and T'rond'n were or the circumstances of Lalana's captivity up until this moment, and she also understood the most important thing of all. She smiled, mournfully but with a budding blossom of pride. "Yes. He was Starfleet."

To everyone who wore that uniform and insignia, there was no greater memorial.


	5. Laugh It Off

Within half an hour, the situation on the _Triton_ was stable enough for its crew and medical staff to return to their own ship. Saru bid Lieutenant Commander Morita and Lieutenant Yoon farewell, wishing them a speedy recovery and offering his condolences for their loss. They vanished in a shimmer of white as the transporter whisked them home.

"Amazing!" said Lalana at the sight. "I want to be transported!"

Saru did not have the heart to tell her that someone who failed to register to most sensors was unlikely to be able to undergo the process. Lalana's physiology rendered all of the transporter's many safety protocols inoperable. He instead pointed out a discoloration of brown along the surface of her tail.

"Some human cells are not very polite. They attacked me as a foreign entity. Yet I am the one accused of poor manners." Her tongue clicked a few times as she sloughed off the seemingly dead cells onto the empty surface of the slab.

Saru felt a pang of regret that the issue of propriety continued to cause Lalana such audible distress, but there was one key point of difference between cellular and macro-level interactions. "It was inadvertent, an immune response. There was no malice consciously intended."

"I think I would have preferred it be intended," she countered as they left the medbay. "I don't mind it, though. All outer cells stand ready to sacrifice themselves in protection of the whole. Much like members of your Starfleet stand ready to defend the Federation. It is like you are all a lului!" Thankfully, Saru and Paxton's conversations had finally shifted Lalana's opinion as to the virtues of the Federation.

"It is merely a question of scale," said Saru, finding that a curiously satisfying analogy. "Starfleet is much like the immune system of the Federation." They even engaged with "foreign entities" in the forms of new life and civilizations, though they took great pains not to treat these entities the way Morita's immune system had treated Lalana.

The rest of the walk might have continued in contemplative silence, their long strides making quick work of the route, but there was another thing Saru had been wondering, a story he had been piecing together from his observations. "Crying is an expression of human distress not found in Dartarans. Yet you recognized it in Lieutenant Yoon, and you said you had been in proximity to human cells previously."

"For having such small eyes, you have seen very well," said Lalana, spinning her hands in contentment. "Yes, there was a human known to Margeh and T'rond'n, Peter Bhandary. He was upset, so I attempted to lallen with him, but human hair is not alive, so I was unable to _liliann_."

"Liliann?"

"A sort of... sharing of signals that makes another feel better. It is how lului transmit information in proximity and ensure there is no miscommunication. It is not possible with humans because it requires lului cells to receive the signals."

They were back at the guest quarters. Lalana went immediately to the windows, as if she were hoping to see some lingering trace of the recent battle. The asteroid base was not visible from this side of the ship and neither was the _Triton_. It was just an empty field of stars. Lalana stared out at them in rapt attention and said, "Because I cannot liliann with a human, this time I attempted to use words to compensate. I'm not sure how sufficient they were, but perhaps I spoke enough of them for my meaning to pass through the barrier of the outside and reach the consciousness within. Do you think it worked? Can you liliann with words?"

However many words Lalana spoke, they were never going to equal the sort of bond she was describing. Saru joined her at the window. "It is unfortunate, but you are unlikely to encounter that level of clarity in communication until we locate your people and return you to your homeworld. There is a level of understanding that can only be shared by members of the same species."

Lalana turned from the window and locked her hands tightly together. "Is that true? I will never know full understanding again because I am the only one of my kind in Starfleet?"

Humans, Vulcans, Trill, Andorians, even Tellarites—all these were species of intelligent life Saru had served alongside in Starfleet. The sad fact was, none of them really understood what it meant to be a Kelpien. "And I am the only Kelpien in all of Starfleet. There are also things which can be understood by virtue of shared circumstance."

Maybe none of the other species in Starfleet understood what it was to be Kelpien, but Lalana had stumbled onto one truth in her attempt to liliann with Yoon and Morita: members of Starfleet chose to be there. From the beginning of the day to its end, they were all of them united by that collective understanding and purpose.

The kinship Saru now shared with Lalana was considerably more depressing. "The only ones of our kind," she mused, tilting her head downward and pressing her hands together tightly.

Saru tilted his head to the side in sympathy. "Good manners are a method by which all species may approach each other with minimal misunderstanding. When properly observed, they provide a shared foundation for communication."

She looked up then, her tongue clicking again. "Oh, Saru! Really?" she said, and even if it was mostly the translator talking, Saru thought he could hear a note of gentle annoyance.

"Returning for a moment to the subject of the Civil Conversation..."

* * *

As she concluded her transmission to Starfleet Command, Philippa Georgiou took genuine satisfaction in having felled three birds with one stone. The battle with the pirates, while it had not begun in a manner anyone would have chosen, had more than adequately resolved the issue of piracy in the area by destroying the pirates' base of operations and neutralizing their leadership. The heart of the threat had been eliminated and the Dartaran Council was pleased.

As for the escaped vessels, the _Shenzhou_ was too busy assisting the _Triton_ to chase them down. That meant it would be spared the general housekeeping remaining for the assignment, bird number two.

The _Triton_ 's need for further repairs felled the third bird. "Georgiou to Saru," she intoned, and was rewarded with the sight of his slender form on the ready room holocomm. This necessitated her craning her neck up slightly. "You are with our guest?"

"Yes, captain, completing the assignment as or—"

"Please escort Lalana to the shuttlebay."

Saru drew back slightly, confused. "Captain?"

"The _Triton_ will be taking her to Starbase 55." The confusion did not abate. Georgiou gently asked, "Is there a problem?"

The next indication of distress was the way Saru's hands touched together and twisted. He looked away in careful thought and Georgiou waited. After a moment longer than was ideal, Saru said, "The assignment you have given me, to instruct Lalana on manners, am I to continue this and accompany her?"

That was an interesting idea. Georgiou decided it was the perfect opportunity for a small test. "Do you feel it necessary? We are returning to our regular assignment. It may be some weeks until you can return to your duties if you do."

The holocomms were not displaying Lalana, so Georgiou heard the lului's voice without seeing her. "But we have not finished our conversation. We have barely begun."

Georgiou watched Saru's mouth vacillate faintly in a primordially fishlike reaction. It was excruciating sometimes, watching him process decisions. She patiently waited for the process to complete, half-expecting to see his threat ganglia emerge given the pain this exercise seemed to be causing him.

She did not see the ganglia, but neither did she receive a response that satisfied her. In the end, Saru said the one thing Georgiou had been hoping he would not.

* * *

The mess hall was abuzz with activity. Though lunch shifts varied across all conceivable hours, midday by the ship's onboard clock was always a dining hot spot and Saru found himself surrounded by more hustle and bustle than he generally preferred. He stood in line, trying not to think too much about the proximity of the people in front of and behind him, and focused on his pending lunch order. A large, undressed salad. He did not normally eat so much in a single meal, preferring a series of light snacks that matched his species' tendency to grab food in snatches when it was safe to do so, but the stress of recent days had finally culminated in a gnawing hunger.

He was debating returning to his quarters with the dish when he heard someone call his name. He turned to find an eager human face looking up at him with short, dark hair and the epicanthal fold he knew indicated Asian heritage. One of those subtle differentiators in human faces he had learned to identify since coming about the _Shenzhou_. It took him a moment to put the name with the face. "Lieutenant Paxton."

The meal in Saru's hands could have been lunch or dinner, but Paxton was clearly carrying breakfast: a bowl of oatmeal with sliced banana and cinnamon. Being on second shift, midday was his morning. "I was wondering if I could pick your mind about something? If you're not busy."

"I am on my lunch," said Saru.

Paxton squinted. "So, not busy?"

"What can I assist you with?"

Taking this as invitation, Paxton moved towards a six-seater table with only two chairs occupied and Saru found himself drifting after. The pair of crewman already at the table paid them no attention. There turned out to be a padd hidden under Paxton's tray. "I was wondering if you could look over some translations I was working on."

"I am not a linguist," warned Saru.

"I know, but you spent more time with Lalana than anyone."

Paxton's eager optimism moved Saru. "I will do what I can," he said, looking through the padd. There turned out to be a great deal more content than Saru and Lalana had encountered in their discussions on biology and culture. A surprising amount of the new vocabulary involved botany, gardening, and cooking. "We did not discuss any of these topics."

"No, this is stuff the _Triton's_ computer spat out after she left. Their comms officer sent it over. I can't shake the feeling there's something wrong with our translation matrix."

"Wrong how? I found the matrix to be more than adequate." Perhaps not initially, but after the first hurdle of the translations in sickbay, the matrix had grown by leaps and bounds and proven an entirely effective communication tool.

"Thank you. I barely slept the two days she was here. Honestly, I can't put my finger on it, but take this word here, _ilr_. The computer has it as 'known quantity' but I think it's more like 'equivalent knowledge.' That's not a big deal, adjusting translation to fit context, but... I get the impression lului doesn't work like that. It doesn't change in context. And in a weird way, the words make less sense than they seem to on the surface."

In light of the discussion about liliann, that seemed entirely apropos. Saru opened his mouth to say as much but wasn't quick enough to stop Paxton from jumping onto an adjacent train of thought.

"I mean, when I finally figured out that lului have no genders? That entire initial conversation on the bridge made so much more sense. She wasn't saying she was female, she was just saying she wasn't male!" Paxton paused only to ingest a heaping spoonful of oatmeal.

Saru realized he had fundamentally misunderstood a few details of the scientific survey. They had, of course, covered lului reproduction, which Saru knew was asexual, but he had also asked if there were any phenotypical differences between male and female lului. Lalana had said there were not, and rather than ask a follow-up to what seemed a non-issue, Saru had continued down his question list. Her exact words were, "We are structurally identical," which was a very confusing way of saying they were genderless. Suddenly the translation matrix seemed exactly as insufficient as Paxton was suggesting.

"We should cease referring to Lalana as female," Saru suggested.

"I offered. She said she preferred it. Think about it. She's been with Dartarans for _six years_. Not only is their language gendered, it's intractably so. They have four words for 'they' and none of them are singular and the gender-neutral one _only_ refers to objects. If you used it on an intelligent lifeform, it'd be considered an insult." Paxton ate another mouthful of oatmeal, this time fully swallowing it before rambling on, "What's really cool about lului is that they have _temporal_ _pronouns_. Past, present, and future. It's the pronouns, not the verbs. Because the _action_ doesn't change, the _frame of reference_ of the person doing it does. How novel is that? Seriously, I wish I had more time to study her language."

For the first time, Saru wondered if he should have taken Lalana up on her request to accompany her to the starbase and beyond. He had only grazed the surface of her experiences and knowledge during their brief time together. There were still so many questions, so many things he could have helped her with. Alas, it was not to be. Saru had to find consolation in the fact he had done as Georgiou wanted by staying on the _Shenzhou_.

Paxton broke the silence again. Communications officers did have a reputation for chattiness. "I've been wondering, as a non-human, what do you think about using a translator to render a laugh for a species that laughs in a completely different way?" He looked at Saru expectantly, waiting with spoon in hand for an answer.

It was an odd question. Saru rarely found anything in the universe to be funny. "Humor is highly subjective. It could be... problematic."

"You're right," said Paxton, resuming his meal.

Saru wondered another thing. If Lalana could laugh, what would it sound like? Sadly, their individual forays into the cosmos were marked more by occasions for sorrow than humor.

* * *

Returning to the far reaches of space was a comfort to Captain Georgiou. Out here, with little to no oversight and potential mysteries hiding behind every orbiting rock, there was a freedom to do as she wished and an autonomy that assignments like clearing out pirates for Federation allies did not provide. She sat at the table in her ready room, sipping tea as she scrolled down a list of unexplored objects and shortlisted a few candidates for exploration.

The door chimed. It was T'Vora. The Vulcan stood at stiff attention, unnecessarily formal given their years serving together. Formality made T'Vora more comfortable than any display of camaraderie, no matter how genuine. Not that T'Vora would ever admit to it—if asked, T'Vora would calmly state that Vulcans did not experience emotional discomfort and call it a non-issue. Georgiou simply knew better.

"We have entered sector H-7," T'Vora reported. They were so far out, the sector did not yet have a designated Federation name. If they discovered some developed sentient species, it would receive one.

Georgiou gave a curt nod of acknowledgment. "Join me," she offered, flicking her finger at the empty chair beside her own. As captain, the offer was really a command. T'Vora paused at the dispenser to order a cup of hot water with cayenne pepper and sat down.

T'Vora went straight to business, as usual. "Have you chosen our target?"

"Not yet." Another flick of the finger sent the list on the display two screens down. Georgiou shortlisted a planet whose atmosphere long-range scans suggested contained some form of sugar. "Have you chosen your ship?"

T'Vora was not just Georgiou's first officer, she was also Starfleet's next new captain. The promotion was already approved and the assignment was pending only this one final decision between two ships coming off the assembly line at almost the same time: the USS _Edison_ and the USS _Buran_.

The ships were almost as different as night and day. The _Edison_ was a _Hoover_ -class science vessel and the _Buran_ a _Cardenas_ -class workhorse. Either ship promised adventure and prestige with an exceptional captain at its helm. The precise nature of those adventures would be determined by the function of the ship's design.

"It is unfortunate that there are no pending ships named for Vulcan luminaries," said T'Vora.

"I mentioned that to Starfleet Command," said Georgiou. "They will look into it." T'Vora's eyebrow raised. "I did not say it came from you. I told them, as Vulcans have been in space longer than humanity and in light of the esteemed performance of my first officer, it seemed shameful there were no ships named for her people for her to command."

"Thank you," said T'Vora, because while it was true she found the dearth of ships named for Vulcans illogical, T'Vora had an interest in remaining in the Starfleet Command's good graces. That meant keeping her criticism of their naming logic to herself. Since Georgiou hated having anyone looking over her shoulder and had no intention of joining the admiralty, she felt free to raise the objection on T'Vora's behalf. T'Vora sipped her cayenne water. "In fact, I have made my decision and sent it to Starfleet Command. I have chosen the _Edison_."

It was Georgiou's turn to raise an eyebrow. "That is the less tactical assignment."

"Though it was many years ago, I am a graduate of the Vulcan Science Academy." It was easy to mistake the Vulcan's stiff tone for haughty indignation. "My tactical expertise may prove a useful supplement to the scientists aboard, especially should we find ourselves in an unscientific situation."

Georgiou smiled. "Very logical."

"Indeed."

"You should begin thinking what officers you wish to bring with you from the _Shenzhou_."

"I have already constructed several lists of candidates. I will interview them and inform you as to my decisions in the coming months."

Probably the interviews were even more formality and T'Vora already knew exactly who she wanted. Georgiou would miss that level of preparedness. "Some part of me wants to suggest you take Saru."

"He displeased you during the incident with the lului."

"Disappointed," Georgiou corrected.

"I found his survey of the lului to be adequate for what it was."

Georgiou put her cup down on the glossy surface of the table. "It was not the survey. That was an admirable attempt. It was what he did after, or more precisely, what he did not do." She paused for emphasis. "He had an interest in the lului and I allowed him to pursue it. I went so far as to offer him an opportunity to go with her to the _Triton_. Lalana requested he go with her. Do you know what he said? He said he would do whatever I wanted. It would be one thing if he had committed to either course of action. He committed to neither."

It could have been an angry condemnation of Saru's greatest weakness as an officer, but T'Vora thought she detected regret in Georgiou's tone more than anything else. "Have you informed him of this issue so that he can correct it?"

"I worry, if I do not approach him very carefully, he may take the criticism too far. He is very sensitive. Besides, he may learn to be more bold on his own." Georgiou picked up her tea again.

"If you wish, his threat ganglia are an interesting diagnostic tool I could bring to the _Edison_."

Georgiou smiled. "I am not ready to give up on him just yet. There is something to be said for a Kelpien overcoming its basest instincts to join Starfleet, and he did propose the course of action which enabled us to save Lalana in the first place. Saru may yet surprise us."

"Surprise you," said T'Vora. "There will be no 'us' in four months."

"You could continue as my first officer until they name a ship for a Vulcan." The dry look on T'Vora's face felt even more unamused than usual. Georgiou shrugged. "I had to try."

There was a pensive silence as they sipped their beverages. Finally, T'Vora said, "Philippa, I realize I have left something unsaid. You should know I place high value upon the time I have spent here with you as my captain."

It verged on an admission of emotion. Georgiou's dark eyes glinted with amusement. "Sentimentality from a Vulcan. They should give me a commendation."

T'Vora raised an eyebrow, which was as close to a laugh as Georgiou was going to get.


	6. Fruit of the Poison Tree

A/N: Sometimes the missions you don't go on are as important as the ones you do.

* * *

Ensign Zahra Hasimova shook like a leaf. There were pieces of security officer on her face. There were _pieces_ _of security officer_ on her _face_.

It was supposed to be a simple historical survey, cataloguing some cave paintings left by a primitive species, a few hours of fresh air and sunshine and then back to the confines of the ship. The creators of the cave paintings had gone extinct several thousand years ago. From what, they did not know, but Hasimova suspected the answer to that question was directly related to the bits of security officer on her face.

Now it made sense, Saru's ganglia.

* * *

"Could be anything," said Dr. Channick, scanning the valley with her eyes more than her tricorder. "Viral contagion, supervolcano blocked out the sun, their choice of building material."

Channick, Hasimova, and a security officer were standing on a rocky outcropping partway up a cliffside near the end of a ravine. A picturesque valley of trees and fields stretched out in front of them, seemingly untouched by industry or society.

The truth was hidden in plain sight. The rock in this region—and across much of the planet—featured abundant veins of cinnabar, a striking red mineral classically used on Earth to produce the color vermilion.

Cinnabar was also notable for another reason: it was as deadly as it was beautiful, with high concentrations of mercury. The locals, oblivious to the risks, had used the material extensively in their architecture, creating towns that, in their heyday, must have been startling gems of red jutting up from the landscape. A few thousand years of sedimentary deposits later and the only signs left of these structures were areas of unusually poor plant growth, like the treeless void of grass in the valley below. The locals were long gone but the poison remained.

"Maybe they had a limited diet and starved when there was a blight," continued Channick. Offering medical theories as to the fate of the natives was her flimsy justification for getting off the ship and enjoying the scenery.

The security officer waited for them to finish taking in the view and offered Hasimova a hand down. She smiled in thanks and he smiled back.

They picked their way along the wall of the ravine, deposits of gravel crunching beneath their feet. A broad smear of silty mud ran through the ravine's center, suggesting that when it rained, the whole area became a river of significant depth and danger, with rapids and undercurrents capable of dragging a person under and slamming them into the rocky walls with enough force to pulverize. At present, the greatest danger was to their uniforms. The security officer's shoes and pants were already caked up to the knees from some earlier muddy crossing. Channick and Hasimova had beamed down onto the same side of the ravine as the cave and were spared the need to repeat this indignity.

The cave was a gaping maw in the wall. It had likely formed as the result of an eddy forcing enough water against one spot to form a depression in the rock. After a millennia of repeated flooding, the depression had grown into a pocket, then a cavity, and finally a wide, open chamber with broadly sloping walls, its apex a good twenty feet above their heads. It possessed the slight chill and faintly clammy smell of a place that knew no sun.

A second security officer greeted them from inside, their escort's partner. "Take a look," she said, shining a light up onto the ceiling.

The paintings were high along the ceiling and walls. Strange humanoid figures, gesturing as if in welcome, or perhaps warning, because a wave was not a universal hello. The figures highest up were full-body while the ones further down were cut off at waists and knees, the pigment on the lower half of the walls long since washed away.

There were abstract markings, too. Spirals and burst shapes, a pattern of diamonds perhaps intended as constellations. Hasimova imaged them and made a note to compare the patterns against stars visible in the planet's night sky.

"Pax is gonna be so jealous," said the male security officer. Hasimova smiled to herself. She might have suggested Paxton accompany them, but his shift had not yet started and she wanted to be the one to index the paintings. Being assigned to the bridge as an ensign was an amazing opportunity she intended to make the most of. When these images went back to Starfleet's archives, her name would be listed on the files and her analyses would be the initial launching point for further investigation.

"There's one in every crew," Channick remarked under her breath. Hasimova looked over at the security officers. The female officer was eating a protein bar. She offered her partner half and he predictably declined. The current generation of Starfleet-issue protein rations was infamous for its unpalatable flavor profile and equally long shelf life. Many people thought a willingness to eat the bars increased your chances of away team duty. Even this was insufficient incentive to convince most officers to eat the rations outside of anything but the most dire of survival situations. A friend of Hasimova's had eaten one on a dare and declared it "pure poison."

"I'm gonna go do some more scans," said Channick, which was probably code for going hiking. "Try not to fall on a rock or have a medical emergency."

"Just pictures," promised Hasimova.

The female officer volunteered to accompany Channick. The doctor declined the company and repeated her warning not to cause any medical emergencies.

"You be careful," said the woman. "Watch out for the Jabberwock."

"If I find any lifeform bigger than a rabbit, it'll be a miracle."

"Yeah, this planet is pretty dead," noted the male officer.

"Saru didn't come down. You should've seen his ganglia."

There had been, prior to the initial beam-down, an incident. Standing in the transporter room, moments away from mission commencement, a ganglia reaction had frozen the Kelpien in place. This was not the first time it had happened, either. Three previous incidents of varying severity had necessitated replacing Saru on the away team roster at the last moment. Today marked the fourth.

Channick was entirely dismissive of the suggestion. "He thinks _every_ planet is dangerous. It's an evolutionary reaction to stress, it doesn't mean anything." A reaction sometimes strong enough to merit a medical exception, but Channick's data had yet to reveal a conclusive correlation between the ganglia and mission outcomes. Most missions entailed some level of danger and occasionally the danger was fatal to someone. Saru's ganglia in no way guaranteed a fatal outcome. She intended to talk to him about the issue this afternoon because enough was enough.

"Still," said the woman. "Keeps your comms open." Channick feigned a salute and exited.

Hasimova continued her imaging. It wasn't enough to just get the pictures, she also took detailed material scans. The redder pigments contained cinnabar, of course.

The male officer wandered over to join Hasimova. "Do you think they looked like us?"

"Humanoid, at least, Beyond that, I can't say." The paintings were too crude to have any discerning features.

"Stop bothering her, Hack," called the women.

"I'm not! Am I?"

Hasimova smiled. Hack had a thick head of dark brown hair, bright brown eyes, and a square jawline. "No."

"See? We're just having a conversation." His partner rolled her eyes and went to stand guard nearer the entrance. "You'll have to forgive Geri. They don't train us security officers in manners. They think it'll interfere with our ability to fight off threats."

"Oh? So what do they train you to do?" asked Hasimova coyly. None of Hack's subsequent boasts had anything to do with Starfleet training programs.

He was outlining an escapade involving drinking most of the available alcohol in a small Icelandic town when there was a thud from the cave entrance. Geri was on the ground, already in the process of trying to get back up. Hack rushed to her side.

"I just... had a sudden wave of vertigo," said Geri.

"I'm on my way back," said Channick over the comms.

"I think I'm okay."

"Probably that protein bar you ate," suggested Hack.

"Probably," said Geri, sounding unconvinced.

"I told you not to eat—"

Something pulsed across the surface of Hack's skin, like a wave of subdermal fire. He started to fall.

He did not hit the ground. His skin seemed almost to glow and then suddenly there was a wet, sucking sound as the surface of his body exploded in a spray of fat and muscle and every other element of soft tissue, the force sufficient to shred his uniform. Most of him landed on the ground, but enough of him landed on Hasimova and Geri that calling the spread of slime and cloth at their feet a human corpse was not accurate in the slightest.

Hasimova stood there, shock-still, her mouth open, feeling the dribble of viscous fluids down the side of her face.

"Doctor!" shouted Geri. "He exploded!"

A moment later, so did she, with the same pulsing ripple of energy across her skin.

Hasimova did not close her mouth fast enough. All the many words of her communications training failed her. Over the comms, all Channick could hear was her screaming.

* * *

"A parasite," concluded Channick back in the relative safety of sickbay. "In the mud of the streambed. It was underground, so it didn't show up on surface scans. Wouldn't normally be a problem, but..."

Geri and Hack's legs had been coated in mud from crossing the ravine. Hidden within the silty particles were hundreds of desperately hungry microscopic parasites. Exposure to a new food source switched them from a dormant state to one of rapid reproduction. Coupled with the human immune system's failure to identify the parasites as a form of invasive tissue, the parasites had been able to lay millions of eggs in their new hosts. The human circulation system did the rest, spreading the eggs across every corner of the human body.

This situation was not intrinsically fatal. It turned out the parasites were easily filtered out by the transporter's protocols once identified, but the security officers had been down on the planet for a few hours, enough time for the things to reproduce en masse. Then, when the density of eggs was at a critical mass, an enzymatic reaction caused all the eggs to hatch at once.

"Is this what wiped out the native population?" asked Georgiou.

"Maybe. Chances are the natives weren't affected by them the way we are. The DNA of the parasites has an... explosive reaction to human DNA." Even if there had never been any pieces of security officer on Dr. Channick, the sight of Hasimova standing there covered in splatters from both was not easily forgotten.

"It is unfortunate you were not there," said Georgiou.

Channick bit her lip. The reaction had been so immediate, her presence would not have made any difference whatsoever. The real misfortune was that Channick had been playing archaeologist and scanning the geology of the area with her tricorder rather than the officers.

"I will have to put this on your record."

"I understand, captain."

Georgiou considered her chief medical officer. None of them had identified the danger in time to avert this disaster except perhaps Saru. "Perhaps we should put more stock into Saru's ganglia."

"Yes, captain," said Channick.

"Do not worry. You have an exemplary service record. That this mistake has cost the lives of two of my crew is a tragedy, one that we will prevent in future. It will not end your career."

With that, Georgiou left Channick to mull things over. Channick was having a hard time deciding what felt more insulting to her, the suggestion she cared about her career in the wake of this or the idea that it could have been predicted by Saru.

The correlation to Saru's ganglia remained unclear. Yes, Saru's reaction prior to the mission had been extreme enough to excuse him from beaming down on a seemingly routine task and two people had subsequently died, but on a hunch, Channick tested the parasite's DNA on a sample of Kelpien DNA. It was entirely nonreactive. Whatever danger Saru had been sensing, it had not been danger to himself.

Inconclusive, she decided. And tragic.

There remained a question as to the parasite. The nearest computer terminal was blinking with a prompt inviting her to name the newly-discovered species for the report. There was no way she was going to name it after herself. The victims deserved a memorial, but there was something macabre in the idea of naming something for the first people it killed, and also the question of which officer to name it after. Ensign Harold Tackett had died first, but Lieutenant Geraldine Combs was higher-ranking and had a longer service record. Channick pressed a finger to record a prompt response but remained indecisive. "Com-Tack's parasite?"

This was how the seventh planet of the Tonnata system came to be mistakenly labeled as "Comtax" for the next six months until someone in stellar cartography corrected it, and the parasite was labeled as "Comtaxan" in an even smaller error that never was.

* * *

It was normal for Saru to feel like all eyes on the ship were upon him, but today there seemed to be evidence to support this. Furtive glances, hushed whispers, and he could easily imagine what they were saying. _He knew they were going to die_.

If only he had. He knew something was wrong before the away team left the ship, but as with so many other times his ganglia reacted, he did not know why until after the tragedy. His ability lacked any clear prescience. Always there was an edge of uncertainty.

Despite this, Georgiou had taken him aside at the beginning of his shift to inform him that from now on, he should keep her appraised of his gangliar reactions. "You are a more potent force than I realized," she said, and he thanked her and swallowed the fact he was more embarrassed by his ganglia than anything else. Captain Georgiou would never flinch in the face of death the way he did. Perhaps, he told himself, he could take solace in the fact his affliction could be of use to the captain. The idea was mildly reassuring.

His ganglia were not being particularly reassuring right now. The sensation of being watched was uncomfortable enough his only intention on his mid-shift meal break was to secure a serving of blueberries and retreat to a quieter place to eat them. He stood waiting in line for his turn at the food dispenser, his gaze stalwartly on the floor.

"You sick freak!" screamed Hasimova from the far side of the room, accompanied by the rough bray of a chair scraping across the floor. Saru's head jerked up.

Hasimova was standing next to a seated Paxton, two trays of food on the table. Hers contained three-quarters of a sandwich and his a bowl of oatmeal. Hasimova's hand jerked with uncertainty. Then she grabbed the bowl of oatmeal, upended it into Paxton's face, and stormed out.

On the far side of the mess hall, a lieutenant commander from Paxton's shift slowly clapped. Ignoring the derision, Paxton wiped oatmeal from his face and flicked the clumps onto his tray. Most of the congealed mass of food had landed in his lap by way of his chest. He did what he could to remove it. Another lieutenant at the next table offered him her napkin in pity.

Wiping down the chair, Paxton picked up both of the food trays and brought them to the service area. Then he came and stood behind Saru in line.

"Lieutenant," said Saru uncertainly.

"Lieutenant Saru," said Paxton, disarmingly neutral.

"Is everything alright?"

"Um," said Paxton, squinting. "Are you asking because you want to know or are you just being polite?"

The answer was that Saru was being polite, but to say as much would ruin the intent. Saru sidestepped the question. "Ensign Hasimova seemed to be in distress."

"I did get that impression." It could have been a joke, but Paxton's expression was grimly intent.

Saru reached the front of the line. He placed his order with the computer. A moment later, Paxton did the same at the adjacent dispenser when it became available. "Oatmeal. Bananas and cinnamon." Their orders appeared at the same time and they both started towards the main entrance, awkwardly halting as they realized their destination was the same. Saru motioned for Paxton to go first.

This was all the encouragement Paxton needed to initiate a conversation. "Was it bad that I threw away Zahra's sandwich? I didn't think it was right to leave it there on the table. But maybe she'll come back for it."

Somehow, Saru doubted Hasimova was going to return to the mess hall anytime soon. "I do not think it matters. There is no shortage of... sandwiches."

"Good point. I wonder how long I have to wait until I can apologize." Paxton began to eat his oatmeal as he walked.

"That would depend on what you need to apologize for."

"I asked her what it looked like when Hack died."

Saru maintained his stride despite the somersault his mind took. "Why would you ask that?"

"That's..." Paxton's brow furrowed. "If I could see what it looked like, then it would be like I was there."

Saru slowed to a stop. "I almost went on the mission." He reached a hand up towards his head, fingers hovering inches away from his ganglia slits.

"Why didn't you?" It seemed like Paxton was the only person on this ship who did not know.

"I sensed death."

"Oh."

They stood there, uncomfortably still and silent until Saru asked, "Why would you wish to see death?"

Paxton shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth and gulped it down, "It's not that I want to see death, it's that I wish I could've been there with Hack. He's my friend. If I can picture it in my imagination, then at least in some part of my brain, I was there."

Humans were really alien, Saru decided. He knew firsthand the visuals of his kin being butchered as food and that was something he would rather not have seen. He resumed walking and Paxton followed his lead. "The reality of the situation would likely not be the comfort you imagine."

"Maybe. But not knowing is worse." They arrived at the aft turbolifts and waited. "I was thinking of asking the captain if I could go to the memorial service."

"I am sure she would allow it."

"He has a sister, Evelyn."

There was nothing really to say to this statement of fact. Saru offered the vaguest of platitudes. "I am sorry for your loss." The turbolift arrived. A crewman stepped off. Saru and Paxton stepped on. "Deck five." Paxton said nothing; his quarters were on the same level.

It was a short ride. Not short enough—the sense of shared confinement drove Paxton to resume talking as Saru tentatively ate a blueberry.

"He was my best friend. I wasn't his, but he was the best one I had." The lift doors opened.

"Perhaps you should speak to someone," advised Saru, exiting the turbolift with a single graceful stride.

Paxton did not move immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm being weird and bothering you and you don't even know me. Sorry."

Saru stood outside the turbolift, staring at Paxton, trying to contextualize this behavior. It was very different to the reactions Morita and Yoon had displayed over the death of a man, by Morita's own admission, they barely knew. It was also markedly different from Paxton's confident exuberance a week ago when he had assailed Saru on the subject of the lului language. There was something tragic in the loss of that innocence. "You are... not bothering me." It was an awkwardly difficult statement to make, since it was untrue.

Paxton exited the lift then, gaze downcast. The door closed behind him and the turbolift hummed off to its next destination. "It's fine, I know I'm annoying. The common denominator in my lack of friendships is me." Despite the body language, his voice was entirely unsentimental, verging on introspectively curious. "My reactions are a little... off. Eventually the novelty of my weirdness wears off and people realize they'd rather hang around with someone who falls within 'acceptable social parameters.'" He used the hand with the spoon in it to mime half a set of air quotes. "And then they disappear. I wonder if Hack..." He fell silent. Contemplating whether or not the sole person he still labeled a friend would have ceased being his friend if only he had lived long enough was an immensely depressing train of thought.

Saru looked at the bowl of berries. "I believe you are describing the normal rise and fall of social relationships. Friendships are largely based on proximity. A change in shift, posting, or interests, and it becomes very difficult for either party to maintain the requisite interactions to continue as 'friends.'"

Paxton looked up. "Really? It's not just me?"

The rigid lines of Saru's face seemed to soften slightly. "Entirely not."

Encouraged, Paxton set off down the hall and Saru did the same, catching up to the much shorter human in all of two steps. Despite the improvement in Paxton's demeanor, his conversational bent remained bleak. "It doesn't change the fact everyone leaves in the end. It's inevitable. You can't fight the future."

Saru tilted his head. "The future is not yet determined."

"Isn't it, though? The present is the culmination—the logical conclusion of all the events of the past. Our decisions are based on our experiences, so given the same history prior to this moment, we will always choose to do exactly what we do, the way we do it."

Lalana had said something similar to Morita and Yoon. _Events are a cumulative result of all events which came before them_. Paxton's interpretation of the sentiment was a little more extreme.

It was an extreme Saru had encountered before, in a science course at the Academy. He had not been brave enough to voice his own opinion at the time, but in the years that followed, he had developed a response and was now prepared to present it. "Determinism is a philosophy which fails to anticipate the unpredictability of quantum mechanics. If the atomic reactions which govern the firing of neurons are random, then it is possible for a multitude of outcomes even given identical circumstances."

Though Paxton had not been in the class with Saru, he had also had this discussion before and jumped right to a counterargument also mentioned in Saru's course. "Assuming the randomness of quantum reactions is sufficient to overpower the psycho-neurological programming on the macro level."

"An unresolved question of scale," allowed Saru. "If I may, there is a relevant analogy on the macro scale. If we were merely a product of our genetic programming, then I would not be on a starship. I believe in free will, Lieutenant Paxton."

"So people have a choice and choose to tell me I'm a freak?" Saru had not foreseen this consequence of his assertion. He was at a loss as to how to respond. Paxton stopped in front of one of the dozens of doors along the corridor. "This is me."

Saru said the only thing he could think of in reassurance. "Ensign Hasimova was in distress. I am certain she did not intend to refer to you unkindly."

"It's okay. It isn't the first time someone's called me a freak or a robot and it won't be the last. Water off a duck's back, right?" This time, the words were resilient, but the tone verged on upset. Paxton's emotional state was consistently opposite the content of his remarks. "I'm gonna change. Thanks for walking with me, lieutenant."

"We were going in the same direction," said Saru, downplaying the charity. He was unsure what the idiom about the duck meant and had no interest in learning the particulars.

"Then I guess it's a friendship of proximity. Beep boop!"

Saru stared.

"Sorry," said Paxton, smiling weakly. "Robot humor. See you later."

"Lieutenant—"

Paxton froze with his hand on the door controls.

"It would be advisable to attempt an apology to Ensign Hasimova tomorrow. You should never leave an apology too long."

"Okay. I'll do that."

The door closed. Saru stood alone in the hallway, wondering at the whole conversation. Even if Paxton failed to meet the definition of proximal friend rather than mere acquaintance, Saru hoped his words had provided some consolation to the other lieutenant. He hated the thought of anyone around him suffering as a result of a misunderstanding. He set off towards his own quarters to finish the rest of his break in peace.

There was another possibility. Perhaps most people did form enduring social bonds and Saru was as odd a duck as Paxton because neither of them had much in the way of long-term friendships.

Maybe it was for the best. Deep space exploration was a high-risk undertaking and having friends meant potentially losing them in a very permanent sense.

* * *

In light of Georgiou's newfound admiration for Saru's ganglia, Channick debated the merits of calling the Kelpien in, but at the end of the day she was the ship's chief medical officer and she had her own conscience to answer to. "Lieutenant Saru to the medbay."

Saru arrived with wringing hands and worry written across every inch of his posture. "Dr. Channick, is there something wrong? My latest medical scan, I thought there might be an abnormality—"

Channick held her hand up for silence. "Your scan was fine. That isn't why I called you in. Lieutenant, I need you to hear something, and I need you to really take it in, understand?"

Saru's head jerked in alarmed confusion. It sounded like he was in trouble.

"Your ganglia. You had a bad reaction before this last mission and didn't go down, and I signed off on that. The mission turned out to be dangerous, yes, but _every_ mission is potentially dangerous. Every moment in time is potentially dangerous. I want to make one point here, and that is what would have happened if you _had_ gone down to the planet."

Saru recalled Lalana saying something similar during the battle with the pirates. _There is nowhere in the universe which is safe._ He found himself thinking of the lului regularly, wondering where she was in the universe and what she was doing, but far be it for him to bother her.

Channick picked up a biological sample dish. It contained a quantity of dirt. She opened it. "Put your hand in this."

Saru tentatively complied. It was just dirt.

"This dish contains the parasites that killed Lieutenant Combs and Ensign Tackett."

Saru's hand jerked back. His whole body pulled away, his limbs tensing as he fought the urge to leap blindly backwards. Only one thing kept him in place. For all that he knew he should be afraid, nothing in his instincts had alerted him to danger.

Channick closed the dish. "No ganglia, right? Because this parasite isn't dangerous to you. Just the people around you, provided we fail to take precautions." She pulled the medical gloves from her hands and dropped them into the nearest receptacle.

The tension abated. "The danger I sensed, the coming of death... It was not my own." It wasn't always. Saru's ganglia were perfectly capable of reacting on behalf of others, as they clearly had in this instance. "Perhaps if I had stopped them from going down to the planet..."

Channick took a deep breath. This was not the point she was trying to get across to him. "Saru. You are the most cautious and thorough science officer on the whole ship. When most people would logically stop looking for something, you keep checking. That's why I know, if you had been down on that planet, you would have found the parasite." She imagined Saru would have checked under every stone, leaf, and twig and still balked at the idea of issuing an all-clear.

Realization seized Saru. He clasped his hands and straightened to his full height. That made it even worse. There were _two_ ways he might have prevented their deaths. "I am... more responsible than I realized."

"No, don't go there. The responsibility is mine. I should have had this damn conversation with you weeks ago. I'm your doctor and I could have run my own scans down on the planet. None of this is on you. Besides, we can't change what happened."

Channick seemed to be taking all the blame on herself. Saru knew what Lalana would have said on the subject, that no one person was more responsible for any given outcome than another, but it seemed to him that of the thousand, tiny million interactions that had led to the deaths on Tonnata VII, more than a few of them belonged to him and Dr. Channick, and Saru's rejection of Paxton's determinist philosophy further meant the two of them could have changed things if only the past were changeable.

Saru folded his fingers gracefully together. The past was over and done. "But we can change what happens going forward."

There was something in the way Saru said it, an unusual certitude to his tone. Channick relaxed. Most of the crew had mixed feelings about their resident Kelpien and his many idiosyncrasies, but Channick knew there were several ways to define _intelligence_ and her favorite was "the capacity to exceed evolutionary instinct." For all his fears and struggles, Saru was a highly intelligent officer.

"Wash your hands," she told him. "Those parasites will kill most anyone else here."

* * *

The third planet orbiting Bepi 113 was a maelstrom of trionium gas and electrically charged particles. Drifting a safe distance away, the _Shenzhou_ was witness to an impressive display as ribbons of plasma discharged across the atmosphere in a pattern not unlike the way the genetic incompatibility had danced beneath Ensign Tackett's skin—a similarity known only to Ensign Hasimova, who repressed a shudder as she observed the phenomenon from her post on the bridge. Her nominal acceptance of Lieutenant Paxton's apology had not extended to providing him the requested description.

There was no way to beam down through the atmosphere to investigate the anomalous readings coming from the planet's surface. They would have to take a shuttle. As the away team donned EV suits and the engineers triple-checked the shuttle reinforcements, Saru could not repress the violent reaction of his ganglia.

The ensign beside him eyed the ganglia nervously, reminded of Tackett in an entirely different way. This felt like the prelude to Tonnata VII all over again.

It was hard to miss the staring. "Do not concern yourself, ensign," said Saru.

"But..."

"If there is danger, then I will assist in handling it."

The ensign relaxed. If Saru was willing to go down there, there was no reason for any of them to be worried.

There was plenty of reason, of course. The ensuing chaos of another mission gone dangerously awry entirely justified the appearance of the ganglia, but when the unstable electrical field produced a series of dangerous plasma waves that threatened to fry the shuttle and strand them on the surface or worse, Saru deflected the waves away from their position by polarizing the trionium gas around the shuttle, rendering it anathemic to the charged particles, and they all made it back to the ship in one piece.


	7. If You Never Ask

"She said I was his favorite person on the ship."

It took more than two weeks for Lieutenant Paxton to return to the _Shenzhou_ owing to the ship's mildly erratic exploratory route through the sector and the unpredictable availability of shuttlecraft for nonessential personnel transport, but return he had, with a gift of dried seaweed as justification for his presence on Saru's doorstep. Now he was prattling on as if their prior conversation had never ended.

From Paxton's perspective, perhaps it hadn't. His first words to Saru were, "I've been thinking about what you said," and then he launched into recounting the general details of Ensign Tackett's memorial and Saru wondered how long was an appropriate length of time to entertain this unexpected exchange of words without seeming rude. Paxton had brought a gift and lost a friend, both things which merited extra consideration, but would the human lieutenant be aware of the point at which his presence became an intolerable imposition? Paxton's obtuseness went above and beyond the norm. Most people were unaware of the point at which their presence became uncomfortable owing to a hefty degree of self-involvement, whereas Paxton seemed completely aware of it but unable to stop himself.

The subject of Paxton's present description was Harold Tackett's sister, Evelyn. "So I told her what you said about proximity, that Hack probably would've stopped talking to me and disappeared eventually. And he did, sort of."

Standing there, box of seaweed in hand, Saru was shocked. It did not sound like an entirely appropriate conversational tangent for a memorial. His mental image of Paxton relaying this information to the grieving girl was borderline unforgivable.

"Do you know what she said?"

"I do not," said Saru.

"She said there's no such thing as proximity, because everywhere you've ever been is a fixed point in time and nothing can change it. So every moment you spend with someone in the past is permanent, for better or worse, and that means Harry's only gone if you think the past stops existing, and I don't think that, so..." Paxton smiled, weakly hopeful.

It was a very cerebral sentiment to conjure up on the spot. Saru wondered if Evelyn Tackett had known loss already or formulated the concept as a result of something else. "That is one way of looking at it."

"Yeah. Make sense, the future is fixed as much as the past because they both continually exist." (Saru avoided engaging on the subject and was relieved when Paxton moved on.) "Though, she also said Hack wouldn't have stopped talking to me, which is an easy thing to say of a dead man, but she said she'd prove it."

Saru's head tilted. "How?"

"I don't know."

"What does Ensign Tackett's sister do for a living?" Perhaps she was a quantum engineer or theoretical physicist engaged in applied temporal mechanics working on some sort of mirror or bridge in time, making that statement optimistically plausible.

"She's a researcher for GNN."

A journalist would not possess the requisite scientific training to breach time itself. Perhaps she had worked on a story involving temporal science. If so, she had likely been misled by the sensationalist tendency of journalists to reinterpret research into pithy headlines, conflating experiments with effective technology. Journalism was very good at igniting public imaginations and wildly ineffective at conveying the true rigors and incremental developments of real science.

Thankfully, Paxton either realized he was imposing on Saru or ran out of conversational points to make. His voice took on a tone of finality as he said, "Anyway, I know Kelpiens don't like processed food, so I promise there's no additives or anything in the seaweed. My gamma prepped it herself."

"Thank you," said Saru.

"I'll see you around, lieutenant."

Saru closed the door at last, glad for the chance to return to spending his off-duty hours reviewing new species reports. He opened the corner of the gift box and took a piece of seaweed. It had the delightfully robust, salty taste of Earth's Pacific Ocean. Kelp for a Kelpien. Anyone else might have been making a joke at Saru's expense, but there was no denying his species loved the stuff. Coming from Paxton the gesture was, he decided, entirely a thoughtful one.

* * *

It was entirely obvious to Captain Georgiou. In the weeks since Tackett's and Combs' deaths, Ensign Hasimova's work had suffered. The young officer was struggling in a way reminiscent of her first few weeks on the ship and Georgiou decided it was time to intercede.

The pot of tea was already ready when Hasimova arrived in the ready room, looking the very picture of youthful promise and potential. The soft lighting seemed almost to glow across her dusky cheekbones and the coil of hair atop her head was as elegant as it was stiffly unmoving. She greeted Georgiou with confident deference and took the seat and cup of tea Georgiou offered.

"It has come to my attention that, since the incident on Tonnata VII, you have not been entirely yourself."

To her credit, Hasimova did not reply immediately. After a considered moment, she angled her head expressively and looked at Georgiou with widely sympathetic eyes. "It's been hard since what happened."

"Of course," said Georgiou, entirely neutral. "It was a violent event you witnessed. More so because it was unexpected."

"They were just, there one moment and the next..." Hasimova dabbed at her eye with her finger. "But I'm fine, captain, really. It's simply the nature of life out here. Sometimes it surprises you in terrible ways."

Georgiou sipped at her tea. "Terrible indeed. But death is unavoidable, you must be resilient when you encounter it. You never know when we will find ourselves in a position which requires us all to be at our best. Especially in this sector."

The finger dropped away from Hasimova's eye. "Yes, captain. I won't let this affect me again."

For all the trauma, Hasimova pivoted from distress to resolve admirably quick. "It is important as well that we take time to process and mourn. My ready room is available if you need to talk."

"Thank you, captain. I'm promise, you won't need to call me in again. I'll make sure my work going forward is top notch."

The assertiveness, the intensity. It hinted at an ambition within the younger woman. Georgiou's lips pressed together in approval. Hasimova reminded her a lot of herself at that age. Did the young ensign have the same steel and the same hunger? Georgiou returned her teacup to the surface of the table. "I have always found martial arts to be a fine method of focusing one's thoughts. Do you have experience in hand-to-hand combat?"

Hasimova seemed to instinctively shift forward to the edge of her seat, leaning towards Georgiou with eager interest. "Only the basics at the Academy."

"Were you any good?"

"Promising," said Hasimova with a faintly hapless shrug. "I would have liked to have done more."

"Why didn't you?"

"I already had enough credits in Communications and I wanted to graduate. There was an opening on your ship."

Georgiou's finger traced the thin curve of the teacup's handle. There was no mistaking the fact Hasimova was on the ship because Georgiou was in command of it and this fit well with the reason Georgiou had assigned Hasimova to the bridge.

Taking the silence as invitation, Hasimova ventured, "If you have any suggestions as to martial arts I could use to supplement my workout routine, I'd love to hear them. Not that I want any special treatment, captain. It's enough that I get to be on the bridge. I know how lucky I am."

Index finger curling around the handle, Georgiou lifted the teacup to her lips with another smile. "Nonsense. It is my honor to mentor young officers in Starfleet. Exceptional potential deserves exceptional recognition."

* * *

The loose pants and top of the basic white practice uniform did far less to display Hasimova's assets than the snug lines of a Starfleet uniform, but as Georgiou observed the ensign's inexpert attempts to replicate the basic forms of wushu, she was pleased by the potential on display. "It will take many years, but you may yet have the makings of a fine martial artist. If you keep with it and practice daily."

They were in Georgiou's private gym, a small room with an exercise mat and palm fronds decorating the back wall for a touch of subtle tropical nostalgia. Hasimova's work had entirely returned to form the past few days, meriting the minor reward of a private review to ensure Hasimova's initial forays into martial arts were proceeding soundly. Far be it for Georgiou to let a beginner under her general guidance develop bad habits in the absence of competent oversight.

The doors swooshed and T'Vora entered. Her textured, slate grey Vulcan outfit was more form-fitting than the humans' attire, but the design and function were similar. "Captain, ensign," she greeted. Hasimova straightened to attention.

"I thought it would be worth showing you what these skills can do at a high level of expertise."

Hasimova bowed her head stiffly and backed off the mat. T'Vora took a moment to stretch with some _Sha'mura_ exercises then stood ready for Georgiou's approach.

The demonstration that followed was slow enough to follow, but brutally forceful. Georgiou drew herself straight up, locked eyes with T'Vora, and launched into a quick forward jab. T'Vora only barely avoided the full force of it, shifting her torso just enough for the jab to slide past her waist and responding by bringing her own arm down, attempting to lock it around Georgiou's, but Georgiou was expecting the counter and pivoted in a twist designed to turn T'Vora's locking motion against her. A leg sweep followed that, while it did not connect, forced T'Vora to give up the advantage of her balanced stance and enabled Georgiou's responsive arm-lock to fully engage.

The grapple lasted only a moment. Georgiou flipped T'Vora over her shoulder and onto the mat. T'Vora landed with a graceful roll and was instantly back on her feet, as smoothly if she had never hit the ground. She came at Georgiou with a leg sweep that succeeded in throwing the captain onto her back, but Georgiou rolled away before a second attack could land and kipped-up into a ready position again.

T'Vora began the second salvo, pushing close to Georgiou in a rapid exchange of jabs and punches almost balletic in pattern. The quick succession of perfectly matched strikes was a masterclass in physical strategy. The two combatants struck and countered with speed and precision, the muffled smacks of contact through their clothes like an uneven staccato of sharp applause. Neither took the clear upper hand—though attempts were made on both sides to sneak in attacks that might tip the balance—and after a minute both withdrew to a short distance to reset.

In the third clash, they kept more distance, circling with a focused intensity that momentarily rendered the ensign in the room functionally nonexistent. Georgiou's gaze was dark and unblinking, T'Vora's almost reptilian in its calm. When they launched at once another, Hasimova flinched in surprise, totally unable to predict their attacks and timing. All she could do was watch in awe as Georgiou kicked and T'Vora blocked and ducked under a punch, her own punch going wide. Georgiou danced away with a sharp spin that made her sleeves ripple and snap in the air.

Georgiou seemed to turn on a pinpoint so small she might have been one of a thousand dancing angels. Her retreat transformed into an attack: a ferocious left kick slammed across T'Vora's torso and staggered her. Giving no sign as to the pain she must be experiencing, T'Vora attempted to hook Georgiou's leg with her arm, but Georgiou flexed out of reach. T'Vora wove beneath Georgiou's leg and came up on the other side with a backhand fist that struck Georgiou in the shoulder. Not being a Vulcan trained to hide all semblance of emotion, Georgiou winced and air hissed through her teeth.

Undaunted, Georgiou used T'Vora's proximity to her advantage, finally executing the long-threatened leg sweep, but it was like no leg sweep Hasimova had ever seen. Without even fully bringing her left leg down, Georgiou leapt up, her right leg hooking T'Vora and propelling both of them into the air in a spin. The impact of Georgiou's leg into T'Vora's body transferred all the upward force into the Vulcan, pushing Georgiou back down towards the mat as T'Vora continued her ascent. Georgiou landed easily on her back. T'Vora had to bring her hands up to avoid landing on her head and went sprawling. For all it seemed ungraceful, the fall was reflexively adroit. A single muscle out of place and T'Vora could have broken her neck.

Hasimova was oblivious to the danger. To her, it seemed simply a wonderful display of strength, skill, and tactics. She lightly clapped her hands.

T'Vora and Georgiou rose from the mat. T'Vora pressed a fist into her palm and bowed to Georgiou. Georgiou mirrored the action and turned to Hasimova. The applause had already faded into memory, but even at its peak, the sound had completely failed to convey the immense respect and wonder in Hasimova's eyes. She was thoroughly awed. Georgiou said warmly, "There is as much potential in your body as there is in an entire starship. More, because a starship cannot do more than it was built to do, whereas you have the ability to shape yourself in any way you choose." Hasimova only nodded, still overwhelmed. "Continue with your practice, and when we have time, we will check the progress of your forms. Remember, foundational knowledge is the key to mastery."

"Yes, captain." Hasimova copied the fist and palm bow and left.

Absent the ensign, Georgiou hastily chided T'Vora, "You did not need to make it so easy."

T'Vora stared unflinchingly. "If you wished to make an impression on the ensign, then it would seem to have served its point."

Out in the hall, Hasimova smiled to herself. Being called into the ready room as a result of poor performance could have gone any number of ways, but by God's own grace, the encounter had turned into an entirely advantageous opportunity, and Georgiou was none the wiser as to the real reason behind the dip and recovery in performance.

* * *

When Saru saw Paxton again, it was in the usual place: the mess hall as Paxton's breakfast crossed with Saru's lunch. Today, though, there was no oatmeal. Paxton was sitting at a table along the wall by the door, bent over a padd, intently reading something.

Saru took his lunch—a salad of kale, parsley, and beets—and was intending to conduct a circuit of the ship's corridors as he ate when he noticed Paxton furtively dab his sleeve against his eyes and then wipe it across the padd in front of him.

"Lieutenant?"

Paxton looked up, his eyes as salty as Saru's preferred food flavoring. "Oh, hi, Saru."

Saru wondered what to make of this latest disparity between emotion and tone. "I do not wish to pry, but perhaps you should speak to Dr. Channick regarding your recent loss. She is an excellent resource for crew welfare."

Paxton blinked. "It's not... I mean, yeah, it is about that, but it isn't. It's..." He looked down at the padd, momentarily lost for words, then offered it up to Saru.

It was a letter. Glancing at the first few sentences, Saru could tell the source of the letter was Evelyn Tackett. She was thanking Paxton for attending the memorial, though from the details she provided, it seemed Paxton had elected not to fully participate in the service. Despite this, she was grateful for the time they had spent talking afterwards. "This seems personal."

"Isn't it the most beautiful letter you've ever read?"

Saru scanned a little further. Nestled in the third paragraph was an assurance Ensign Tackett would never have abandoned Paxton as a friend, and since he was dead, she intended to continue contacting Paxton in his stead. No temporal science required.

More interestingly, in the next paragraph, she asked three questions: why did Paxton not initiate contact when people were removed from proximity, what would he conclude from the lack of contact if he were in their position, and what question would he ask someone on the other side of the situation if he could be assured of an answer of complete honesty? The letter ended a two lines after with a promise that Paxton need not answer anything or reply and she would continue to write him, and the valediction "Enduringly Yours, Evie."

Saru immediately grokked Evelyn's meaning: it took two sides of zero contact to break a connection. He also saw the flaw in her logic. It did take two sides, but the fact was no one on the other side had ever made any effort to remain in contact with Saru. Either everyone was too shy to reach out or, more likely, the true impetus to do so was far rarer than Evelyn suggested. Proximity still potentially won out.

"It is... nice," Saru concluded, the words an exercise in forced politeness. He returned the padd. "Are you not eating today?"

A quick look at the nearest time display confirmed the end of the hour was approaching. Paxton's eyes went wide. He jumped up and ran off to procure some oatmeal before his shift started, providing Saru the perfect opportunity to exit the mess hall and eat his lunch in peace.

* * *

When Saru's shift ended four hours later—an uneventful one, mostly spent surveying an asteroid field—he found himself thinking about Evelyn's letter. As dismissive as he had been in the moment, it did potentially merit investigation. A small scientific experiment.

Problem was, he had no idea how to reach his intended subject. There seemed to be no active listing for her on the Federation registry. On a hunch, he called Risa.

The man who answered would have been deemed alluringly attractive by most species in the quadrant, but Risians, like humans, had a bit more hair than Saru found appealing. His greeting was the standard "warm welcomes" line that practically served as a planetary motto. "Forgive me for the imposition, but a friend of mine was traveling to Risa and I was wondering if she had arrived and might still be present."

"Certainly, it's no trouble at all, I'm happy to help. Name and species?"

"Lalana. Her species is called lului."

The man paled. "Could you please hold a moment?"

"Certainly," said Saru, far more calmly than he felt because something was clearly not right.

A minute later, a new face appeared—one Georgiou would have recognized, though the woman was not presently wearing the low-cut top that had left such an impression on the captain and everyone else in the ready room. She was dressed in a floral print robe and the waves of hair that normally fall around her shoulders were twisted into a set of rollers on her head. "Hello—" She froze, a glimmer of realization overtaking the worry in her eyes. "You must be Saru."

Tendrils of ganglia wriggled out into view. "Yes, I am Lieutenant Saru, of the Federation starship _Shenzhou_. Who are you?"

A twist of ugliness marred the woman's otherwise perfect features as the worry returned and spread without reserve across her face. "My name's Sollis."

"I am attempting to reach Lalana."

The next two words were a full confirmation of Saru's rising fears—fears Sollis seemed to share:

"She's missing."


	8. Open Season

The Risian authorities were covering up the disappearance. The sole known member of a threatened species vanishing from the vacation jewel of the Federation was not good for tourism, and while the seedy underbelly of Risa was an open secret, the authorities had no wish to draw attention to it. The official line was that there was no evidence of any wrongdoing. Sometimes arrivals and departures slipped through the cracks. Transports with inaccurate passenger manifests, unauthorized departures, people laying low to avoid gambling debts. There were any number of things that might have happened and had nothing to do with criminal activity on Risa.

Worse, to avoid negatively impacting the vacations of everyone else on the planet, the Risians had increased their security operations only a marginal amount. Nothing that would alarm anyone. There would be no massive search parties, no sector-wide broadcasts, no scrutinizing every ship coming and going down to its bolts and panels, just a few extra guards and cargo inspectors stationed at the ports. Business must continue as usual.

"This is unacceptable," said Saru.

Sollis shook her head. "Even if they did try, it's been weeks, and Lalana doesn't show up on scanners. How would we find her?"

There was, Saru thought, only one answer to that: rigorous application of the scientific method. Examine all the data, postulate theories, test those theories, and find the truth. "It is late where you are;"—local time on Risa had not merited consideration when it came to contacting Lalana, who rarely slept—"is there a convenient time to ask you further questions?"

"I'll answer anything you need." There was a fierce determination in Sollis's eyes. Whatever impression Lalana had left on Saru, she seemed to have left an even stronger one on Sollis.

Gradually, a picture emerged of Lalana's time on Risa and Saru was able to construct a timeline. It began with a call placed from the Shenzhou by Lalana to arrange all the travel details—details Sollis had been more than happy to assist with. Everything from transport between Starbase 55 and the planet to accommodations, all tailored to work around the barrier Lalana's biology presented to transporter technology. Upon arrival, Sollis had taken it upon herself to act as a personal tour guide, introducing Lalana to all manner of new things and experiences. "She loved everything," said Sollis wistfully.

After two weeks of dining, museums, swimming, and entertainment, Sollis suggested Lalana now knew enough to explore the planet on her own and returned to work at the planetary directory. One week later, Lalana was gone. "If only I hadn't left her alone!"

"An indefinite escort was not realistic," Saru said in consolation.

Nothing in Sollis's story hinted at any lurking danger. Of course, if there had been such a detail, Sollis would have shared it with the authorities and there would have been some modicum of investigation before now.

The answer, therefore, might lie in the week Lalana had explored Risa on her own. The only way to investigate those days was to retrace Lalana's steps.

This was not a task Saru could do from the Shenzhou.

* * *

The best thing about Risa was that it was an ocean world. The salt on the air was like perfume. Saru stepped down from the transporter pad in tandem with the other passengers, perfectly comfortable in the context of a herd even if his Starfleet uniform stuck out like a sore thumb from the casual pageantry of the vacationers. Sollis was waiting by the station exit in a green dress that shifted like petals in the wind and amplified the emerald tone of her eyes. A male Risian stood beside her, tall and sandy-haired, clad in a loose white shirt and form-fitting brown leggings with mustard and teal patches. They had matching Risian disks on their foreheads. Saru was not familiar enough with Risian culture to know the significance, but when Sollis introduced him as her husband, Caxus, he guessed it to be a marital symbol.

They took Saru to his hotel to drop off his suitcase first. "We'd be happy to have you stay with us, only we don't have a guest room," Sollis apologized.

"This will suffice," promised Saru. The room was minimal by Risian standards and a deluxe suite by anyone else's. "I would prefer it we began the task at hand." He was not here for a vacation.

The open streets of the island allowed for the free flow of the sea air as they canvassed the streets. Caxus had been with Lalana on a few of the days Sollis had not, and Lalana was a memorable visitor, so tracking down shopkeepers, waiters, and buskers who recalled seeing with her was not very difficult. Many had access to security footage they were willing to share. Saru collected hundreds of hours of content as they went, making sure to request a period of time after Lalana left any location to see if she had been followed or tracked in some way. They moved from door to door, methodically interviewing locals.

After a few hours, Caxus had to leave for work. He was a musician contracted to perform in concert that evening. After he was gone, Saru suggested Sollis might also return to her place of employment if she needed to, promising, "I can continue this endeavor on my own."

"I'm replaceable," said Sollis. "Anyone can do my job. Only Caxus can do his."

To Saru, Caxus's vocation seemed comparatively frivolous, but he kept the thought to himself. Hospitality was of tantamount importance to Risians and Sollis and Caxus seemed to view Caxus's work as something essential for the good of the planet. Saru envied them a little. How nice it would have been if Kelpien society had not been so focused on surviving predation as to render the arts a nearly unfathomable luxury.

As the hours wore on, he was glad for Sollis's assistance. Twice he almost turned the wrong way, misled by the twisting streets and unmapped shortcuts that characterized the area. "The city would be more efficiently laid out in a grid," he noted.

"That would remove the joy of exploration," said Sollis, though there was little joy in her at this point. She lacked Saru's endurance. Every time they entered a shop, she now paused to rub at the soles of her feet. She did not complain, though, and remained stalwartly focused on their task.

She was also brilliant at cajoling the slightly more reluctant business owners into turning over their security footage. She had only to let slip a note of desperation into her voice or mention Minister Karrin's office or suggest they were on a mission of hospitality and everyone turned over the requested footage. Once or twice, she went so far as to suggest that failure to turn over footage would suggest the business owner had something to hide, and reassured that they were only interested in the movements of a single tourist, nothing else that may or may not exist in the footage, and so long as the footage was supplied, there was no need for this to become an official request.

Finally the sun was setting and Saru was forced to admit Sollis looked a pale shadow of the person she had been in the morning, weary and haggard. He realized he had neglected to stop for food and Sollis, in her eagerness to be accommodating, had never asked. "It is late. We should retire for the night."

"Don't you need help looking over the footage?"

Truthfully, he did, but he needed Sollis to be capable of continuing the search tomorrow even more. They had barely covered a third of the island's businesses. "It is more important to eat and rest. Nothing is likely to change between now and the morning." Sollis conceded the point but left only after ensuring Saru was on the main street that went to his hotel so he would not get turned around, map or no map.

Saru was at the door to his hotel room when a sudden wave of fear hit him and his ganglia shot out faster than they ever had before. He knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that something was wrong on the other side of the door.

His hand went to his hip. There was no phaser there. As much as this was an away mission nominally sanctioned by his captain, it was a mission to a civilized, peaceful locale and his phaser was safely secured in his suitcase. Or was it? Had some mysterious assailant broken in, opened his case, disabled the strongbox lock, and taken his phaser? Was he about to be done in by his own weapon?

That was ridiculous. Much simpler for the intruder to bring their own weapon.

He did have his communicator. He took it from his belt and prepared to contact hotel security.

The communicator chirped with an incoming transmission. Saru froze, communicator in hand, ganglia dancing like a party to which he was not invited. It chirped again. He flipped it open. "This is Lieutenant Saru."

The voice on the other end was female, with a thick human accent. Saru had encountered the accent before and heard it described as "country."

"You gonna stand there in the hallway all night, Lieutenant, or would you like to come in? You paid for the room. Or rather, Starfleet did."

She was amicably disarming in tone, whoever she was. Saru's ganglia slowed from a techno rave to a rhythmic ballet. Saru touched the door controls.

There was a woman perched on the end of his bed. She had a shock of short, greying medium brown hair on her head. Her plain grey outfit was not quite suited to a tropical vacation, but had an unobtrusive quality that suggested it would not have been out of place anywhere in the quadrant.

"'Bout time you got here. You know how long I've been waiting?" She checked the watch on her wrist. "Actually, two hours ain't so bad. More punctual than a porcupine, I guess. I'm Myers." She stood up and stuck her hand out in greeting.

"What are you doing in my room?" said Saru, making no move to return the gesture or even step further inside.

Myers dropped her hand, entirely unbothered. "You got cotton in those ears of yours or are you playing hard to get? I've been waiting for you to come back. Can you think of a better place to do that?"

"That is not what I meant."

Myers smirked. "Ah, I know. Close the door and we can get started."

"Started with what?"

"Lieutenant," said Myers pointedly, "close the door."

Saru's ganglia were quieting with each passing moment. The surprise of finding a stranger in the room was passing and that seemed to suggest the danger was gone as well. He stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, still tense and ready to jump at a moment's notice.

"Good God, you are jumpy," said Myers.

Entirely indignant, Saru countered, "I am still waiting for an explanation."

"Does this help?" Myers turned the inside of her vest out, displaying a black Starfleet insignia mounted on the inside. Saru's ganglia shot out again for an entirely different reason this time.

"Rear Admiral!"

"Close," said Myers, turning the vest back down. "Brigadier General." There were very few branches of Starfleet that used non-naval terms of address and only one that issued black badges. "You contacted the FSA about a missing persons report? Well, you got me instead."

As reassuring as that was, Saru had only a name and a rank. He still had no clear idea who he was dealing with. "What does Internal Security want with me?"

"To help, of course. We want to find your friend Lalana."

Whatever unintentional, minor mangling Georgiou had been guilty of with Lalana's name, it paled in comparison to the way Myers said it. She clearly had never seen the name outside of a report. Saru straightened. "Then perhaps first you should know that her name is Lalana," he corrected.

"Lalana? All right, then. Any other instructions you'd like to give me, Lieutenant?"

Saru shrank slightly. "Please forgive me, Brigadier General. I did not mean to correct you."

"Well, Heaven help us both. If you didn't, who would? Would you rather me walk around with egg on my face?"

Saru turned his head in confusion. Myers shook hers and rolled her eyes.

"You're the lului expert," she sighed. "I'm here for your expertise. Tit for tat. In return, I can offer a bit of mine. Like, say, going over all that security footage you collected today."

"How did you know I…"

Myers rubbed her eye, sensing this ordeal was going to lead to a whopper of a headache. Captain Georgiou's personnel reports had hinted the Kelpien was something of a handful. "I'm very good at my job, Saru. Now how about you stop standing there like a signpost to Albuquerque and we get to work on finding your friend?"

Saru's ganglia had quieted over the course of the conversation and finally withdrew into the sacs along the base of his head. "Of course, Brigadier General."

"Jan," she said. "Just call me Jan. We are on vacation, are we not?"

She smiled. Saru felt mildly offended by the human humor, but he was going to need all the help he could get if he was ever going to locate Lalana. He pulled the recorder containing the collected security footage from his bag. "I hope you have slept recently. This task will take most of the night."


	9. Hide and Seek

It took the whole night and most of the morning to review the security footage, even with the specialized portable computer system Myers had brought for the purposes of evaluating evidence. When Sollis called to inquire about the itinerary for the day, Saru diplomatically informed her he was busy chasing down leads and would be in touch later. Then he resumed his search for potential suspects.

"That man there appears in several shops roughly ten minutes after Lalana two days before her disappearance." Saru pointed to a figure clad in loose, tropical-patterned shirt and shorts which the computer had tagged Suspect 558-N. It was truly frightening how efficiently the computer identified and tracked individuals based on outfit, general shape, and gait. It could identify people at great distance and even in the grainiest low-resolution footage.

"Yes," Myers drawled, her voice betraying a hefty degree of exhaustion despite the brief naps she had taken during the night. "Because he's traveling in the same direction along the street. What's that science sayin'? Cooperation ain't… consensus?"

Saru's head tilted downwards. "Correlation does not equal causation," he admitted.

"You can't make an outfit if the shoes and purse don't match," said Myers. Like most of her analogies, it made no sense to Saru. He ignored it.

Saru removed the suspicious flag from 558-N and moved on to the next flagged target. It turned out to be a Risian child, too shy to approach, following Lalana in a game of self-imposed hide and seek until Lalana finally called the child out. Despite what looked to be a friendly invitation, the embarrassed child took off running.

He was grasping at straws and he knew it.

This wasn't to say the night's work had been entirely fruitless. Saru and Myers had managed to identify Lalana's last known location, a string of market stalls near a beach. Then she wandered off in the direction of an unmonitored oceanside pathway and was never seen again. Myers reached out to a contact in the local police who provided footage covering the exit of the path and the computer crunched it. The end result was clear: everyone who went in the same direction Lalana did appeared at the far end of the path except her.

They also identified several people following Lalana on various days. This initially seemed very promising, except all of these "suspects" turned out to be tourists curious to see an unknown, nonhumanoid species. Myers had eliminated each by tracking the rest of their movements, noting no anomalous actions, and confirming their vacation itineraries against records obtained from the Risian authorities. They even managed to call a few of the tourists, some of whom had snapped pictures or spoken to Lalana.

"Yes, we saw her," said a Berellian woman in a purple headscarf. "She was so interesting, we just had to snap a bunch of pictures, and I told my neighbor Orvenne she was never going to top our vacation now. Orvenne thinks she's the best at everything, has the best house, the best bata-berry stew, but did she see a rare alien on her vacation? No, she did not, and if you're telling me the alien is missing, now she never will."

"Could we trouble you for the images you took," Saru gritted out, quietly furious at the woman's smug selfishness.

"Yes, of course. You'll find my pictures are even better than the ones Orvenne took on her vacation…"

Half a dozen of these conversations later, they had a collection of photos, personal videos, and anecdotes that did little more than mirror the existing security footage.

This did not stop Saru from trying. Mindful of the local times for listed witness residences, Saru tried yet another tourist and found himself in lengthy conversation with a human couple who had spoken to Lalana for several minutes on the street. As the pair tried to decide if they thought Lalana's fur was more like grass, or hair, or very thin pasta, Saru mumbled a thank-you for their time and hung up on them mid-sentence. As rude as it was, the thought of continuing the pointless conversation was worse.

Myers tapped her wrist against the hotel room desk console, her watch clasp clinking faintly against the polished surface. "I'm not saying you should stop, but maybe, for the sake of your own sanity, if I eliminate someone, don't bother calling?"

Saru checked the next witness name on his list. It would be socially acceptable to call them in ten minutes. "We do not know who might have information or further footage containing clues."

Myers inhaled slowly. "It was your communicator."

Saru turned and looked at her.

"The reason I knew you were collecting security footage," she clarified. "You had your communicator on you, and that I could track. You were moving slowly along the streets, stopping at every business, and since I figured you weren't an idiot, you'd have asked for any footage, because witnesses are as unreliable as they are frustratingly banal."

"You are relying on intuition to eliminate suspects," said Saru. "Human intuition has limits."

"Intuition informed by experience," said Myers. "I know you want to find your friend, Saru. But you have got to start trusting my experience. This bit-by-bit, examine-every-piece-of-everything approach is a waste of time. Focus on the strongest leads, the people walking that ocean pathway." Myers checked her watch. "Speaking of, it's bright enough out that we can make a full sweep of that path ourselves. See if there's anything there."

Saru stood up. "Yes, that would be an excellent use of our time." There might be any number of physical clues as to Lalana's fate.

Myers stood up much more slowly.

Saru noted this with concern. "You have not slept."

Myers reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a pillbox. The little red pills inside were familiar to Saru; human officers sometimes used them on long shifts. Myers swallowed one dry. Within moments, her posture straightened, her eyes opened, and the tense muscles along her nose and forehead relaxed. She took a deep breath. "Time for a stroll."

* * *

The oceanside path was impeccably clean. "We sweep it twice every hour for trash," assured the maintenance worker posted by the entrance." (The worker had not been on shift the day of Lalana's disappearance. The Risians had already interviewed the worker who was, and he had seen nothing out of the ordinary. Additionally, the trash from that day had already been incinerated by the time Lalana's disappearance was noted. Another dead end.)

Saru was distressed by this news. "I fear our physical evidence may have been erased," he fretted. "If not by the maintenance staff, then by the weather and elements."

"Ah wouldn't be so sure about that," said Myers. "Risian weather control means it never rains unless scheduled, and the evidence we're looking for wouldn't be the sort that gets blown away in a little breeze like this."

The breeze was very nice as they set out. The faint brush of air against their skin was balanced perfectly with the warmth of the overhead sun. The pathway began at the beach and continued up some pleasantly rocky cliffs at a gentle grade. The path itself was broad and smooth, decorated with native plants at irregular intervals to suggest natural growth—except the plants themselves were too beautiful and carefully tended to be accidental. A hewn rock wall separated the walkway from the drop down into the ocean. The wall's rough texture discouraged touching, but it was broad enough for people to sit on for pictures, and there were occasional benches carved into its length.

Recurring signage reminded people not to walk on top of the wall for their own safety. Saru peered over the edge and saw safety netting ready to catch anyone attempting such folly. "What are we looking for?"

"Not here," said Myers. "Further down."

Saru looked back. They were still in full view of the beach.

They continued walking until the curve of the path put the town and beach out of view, passing other hikers taking in the view. Myers explained her rationale as they went, always out of earshot of any potential eavesdroppers. "Now, we've cross-checked everyone at the entrance and exit of the path. Nobody who walked it around the time Lalana disappeared is unaccounted for, which doesn't mean they couldn't have been helping whoever took her, but it does mean they didn't carry her out. And we know from air traffic that there were no ships flying over the area."

"Logically, she must have been taken up or down along the cliff," said Saru.

"Very good. Which means laying in wait for her to come by, and having a means to transport her, as in equipment. Since nobody reported seeing any equipment, it would have to be out of sight."

"So we are looking for evidence on the cliffside of recent tools or equipment," Saru concluded. "Such as climbing gear."

Myers grinned. "Call you the farmer's dog, 'cause that's a bingo. Even if they beamed in, they wouldn't be able to beam out, would they?"

Saru stopped. "That is not necessarily true."

Myers turned and cocked her head.

"While it is true Lalana cannot be transported directly, if she were placed inside a container…" Saru wavered, an unsteadiness entirely beyond the power of the faint breeze.

"Surely it ain't that easy!" said Myers. "We could've been transporting her anywhere this whole time if it were."

"You do not understand," said Saru gravely. "She would not survive transport. The receiving pad would have no way of properly rearranging her pattern."

"You mean… soup?" Myers employed the gruesome but accurate colloquialism employed by many to describe the result of transporter accidents.

Saru looked out over the ocean. The salt on the air suddenly seemed little comfort. "I sense no death here, but my ganglia have not proven completely infallible."

"You can't…"

A trio of Denobulan hikers approached from ahead, all smiles and sunhats. Myers and Saru stood at the wall and stared at the ocean until the hikers had passed. Then Myers continued:

"You can't think like that. Always assume your victim is alive. That gives you an incentive to work fast to save them."

"It has been five weeks," said Saru.

Myers thought a moment. "What value would she be to anybody dead?"

Saru recalled Lalana's demonstration of how her cells disintegrated when disconnected from her matrix. He looked at Myers with surprise. "She would be of no value, as her cells undergo a rapid decomposition process once isolated from her—"

"There you go," said Myers, sparing herself the science jargon.

"I am wasting time," Saru said. "Lalana is out there, somewhere. We should move more quickly." He pulled out his tricorder.

"It's not a waste," Myers said charitably. "Sometimes you gotta put your fears onto the wind and let them float away."

Saru barely took note of the reassurance and began to program scan parameters. "I will check the oxidation of the rock for anomalous readings." He leaned over the wall for a better angle. "The safety mesh as well might—"

"Not here!" exclaimed Myers.

Saru leaned back. "This location is out of view of the beachfront."

Myers gestured along the length of the path. "This is a long, open stretch of pathway. It's a terrible spot to kidnap someone. Too easy to be seen." As if to prove Myers' point, a new pair of hikers appeared from behind them, small and distant but close enough that Saru could have described their outfits accurately. Myers pulled out her padd and brought up the map of the pathway. "These spots here are where you'd wait."

"This is a different approach than my usual, rigorous scientific method," Saru admitted as they headed for the first location. "I would normally eliminate all possibilities methodically. Testing the most likely positions means we may miss the actual location of the crime."

"In the interests of moving this investigation forward, we check the likely places first. If we don't find anything, then you can scour every inch."

* * *

Seven hours later, they were sitting at the café nearest the pathway's end because that was as far as either of them wanted to walk to get food.

The cliffs were devoid of any substantive evidence. There were some miniscule chips on the rock that seemed to come from the occasional tourist tossing trash or losing a camera over the edge. Nothing that would indicate any heavy-duty climbing gear.

Saru picked at his salad and Myers chewed on her left thumb, ignoring the half-eaten croissant in front of her. An empty coffee cup sat beside her plate. "Suliban mystery," she mumbled.

Saru considered the hypothesis. Suliban were quite good at climbing, but racial profiling of that nature was deeply problematic, and there was a larger point: "Many species are adroit climbers."

Myers seemed not to hear Saru. She flipped open her communicator and reached out to a local police contact to ask about Suliban on planet. She finished her croissant while they waited for the contact to search records. "A few, but licensed workers not in the area," the contact concluded.

Myers snapped her communicator shut and said under her breath, "Not that you'd know."

"Perhaps you should also check for Primate Xindi, Kovusians, and Weserites?" suggested Saru, listing three other species known for their climbing prowess.

"What?"

"Your interest in Suliban might be misconstrued," said Saru.

Myers shook her head. "I didn't mean it that way. I was thinking of a specific mercenary is all. Someone I've come into contact with in the past. But if it was him, well…" She waved down the waitress and ordered another croissant and coffee.

Saru forced himself to stomach the remainder of the salad. He needed the energy. Even more given what he was about to propose. "I believe there is a possibility we have failed to eliminate."

"Oh?"

"We have found no evidence of any foul play along the cliff, nor any method by which anyone might have taken Lalana that makes any sense. The fact that she was even on that pathway was incidental, as it was not a pathway she had taken before and there was no indication prior to her using it that she intended to take the path, which makes a targeted ambush also unlikely."

"Saru, I am fried enough to be French. What are you tryin' to say?"

There was a darkness painted across Saru's face as he said, "I do not believe Lalana was kidnapped from the cliffside. I believe she simply may have fallen over."


	10. Lost and Found

For some reason, after I ran a Windows Update that Microsoft INSISTED was needed or my Windows would cease functioning forever, all my recent work on this story disappeared. I had to rewrite this chapter from scratch. (Thank everything I had already posted the previous chapter; that was wiped, too!)

* * *

Brigadier General Janet Myers stared at the Kelpien across the table and tried to decide if he was joking, Since Saru had so far displayed absolutely no sense of or appreciation for humor of any kind, she was forced to conclude he was not. Her eyes blinked as the evaluated his hypothesis and looked for the flaws. "You saw those safety nets. She would've had to fall four, five meters out. Unless you're saying she jumped."

Any other alien and Saru might have entertained the possibility, but Lalana was so recently freed from captivity and so enthusiastic to see the universe, Saru could not imagine her becoming suicidal. "If I may, lului are capable of strides of significant length. If Lalana decided to run the length of the trail and misjudged a turn…"

He could not finish the thought. The mere suggestion furnished Saru with an entirely unwanted mental image that set his ganglia writhing in their sacs.

Myers sat back in her seat and covered her mouth with her hand. The waitress arrived with the fresh coffee and croissant, took note of the tension at the table, and did not linger. Finally, Myers said, "Well, I'll believe it when you show me a body."

"That may not be possible." Myers had not had the patience to listen to Saru's explanation of Lalana's biology earlier, but she was listening now. He said, "When lului die, they undergo a rapid decomposition which leaves no substantive trace of their cellular structures. I have witnessed this process firsthand. The breakdown of materials occurs almost instantly, and what remains is little more than a molecular sludge."

"Are you saying there's no proof? That I should just take your word for it?"

Saru tried to hide his affront at the perceived slight and mostly succeeded. "Not entirely. The non-lului substructure would remain."

"Come again?"

"There would be bones," he said. "Or something similar of unknown composition." Lalana's underlying structure had never been properly scanned owing to her unusual physiology, but they had been able to ascertain the general dimensions of her internal structure via primitive sound-based mapping.

Myers frowned. "We didn't find anything like that."

"With respect, we were not looking, and we lack basic biological parameters such as bone density. We do not even know if Lalana's remains would sink or float."

"Jesus."

Saru could see the wheels turning in Myers' mind. Myers looked off at the ocean, drummed her fingers on the table, and smacked her lips. Then she picked up her coffee and drank it—not in reasonable sips, but all at once.

"Is that not hot?" Saru asked.

Myers thunked the cup back down on the table. "It's too damn convenient is what it is. Trussed up like a turkey at Christmas, served with a bow." She wrapped her fresh croissant in a napkin and stood. "There's still witnesses, suspects, and leads to track down."

Saru also stood. "Should we not at least test the fall hypothesis?"

Myers looked at him with amusement. "By all means. You run down your theory. I'm not telling you what to do with your own time. I ain't your commanding officer."

"You are the senior officer on planet."

Myers clicked her tongue. "You're outside my command structure, Saru. Even if you were mine, that's not how I run things. I don't want the tail wagging the dog. Follow your own nose."

Baffled, Saru inclined his head deferentially, gleaning the meaning even if the precise idiom eluded him. "I will pursue my hypothesis."

"You do that. Check in if you find anything. I'll keep on the rest of the investigation."

Myers started to leave. Saru said, "Thank you. I do not understand why someone of your position would be so personally invested in this situation, but I am glad you are."

With a grin, Myers replied, "Just wanted to see a lului before I retired. And I'd rather not have my perfect case record broken, so! We will get to the bottom of this, rest assured."

Saru felt entirely less than assured as he watched Myers head off to pursue her own wishful thinking. The brigadier general clearly came from a world in which there were always nefarious agents at work. Accepting the proposed accident seemed to be triggering some form of cognitive dissonance within her. Saru did not want to accept it, either, but he would abide by whatever conclusion the evidence suggested.

Even if it meant never truly knowing.

* * *

He found a video booth and called Sollis and Caxus. Sollis was entirely distraught by the update, eyes filling with tears. They spilled down her cheeks and she wiped at them to little end. Caxus stood at her side, staring forlornly into some unseen corner of their house.

Saru floundered at the display of grief. He could offer no words of comfort that would mitigate the awfulness of the likely truth.

"But she swims so well," Sollis managed between the tears.

Saru looked down. "The physics of a fall from such a height, even into water…"

He could not finish the sentence. It conjured up a new gruesome image in his mind.

The image was no better for Sollis. She pressed her face against her husband's shoulder, hand balling around the fabric of his white linen shirt, and shook like a leaf. Caxus put his arms around her.

"I will continue searching," Saru promised. "For as long as I can."

Caxus's gaze focused back on Saru. "We'll help you look."

"That is…" Saru tried to think of a word to describe the offer and came up blank. "…Not necessary."

Sollis pushed away from Caxus, turning and straightening. She stood with shoulders back and chin high. "Of course it is. She's our friend."

There was a force behind her words and stance that sent Saru reeling back slightly. "Thank you."

"We'll see you soon," said Caxus, terminating the call.

In the brief moment before the picture vanished, Saru saw Sollis begin to crumple towards the floor.

* * *

When Sollis and Caxus arrived on the beach, there were no tears, no shaking. They were dry-eyed and resolute. There was an aura of somber disillusionment about them, and a hollowness that gave their movement a mechanical feel, but they seemed determined to begin.

They had brought supplies: an inflatable motorized raft, rope, hooks, fresh water and food, knives, large metal sieves for sifting sand. Caxus offered Saru one of the knives. Saru declined; the Kelpien had an aversion to blades. Instead, he picked up one of the sieves. It was painted with images of tiny little fish along the edges. It looked more like decorative home furnishing than a proper tool. "Are these functional?" Saru asked.

"Yes," said Caxus.

"Tourists use them for finding seashells," Sollis added.

They set out for the cliffside, raft zipping across the gently lulling waves. Saru opened his mouth slightly. The taste of sea spray on the air was refreshing.

Their first destination was a fairly modest curve in the cliffs. It was not a very likely location for an accident, but Saru could not wholly eliminate it, either; he did not know Lalana's top speed or how the physics of impact on the water would affect her matrix, nor was he interested in fully abandoning his usual slow, methodical, scientific approach in favor of Myers' probabilistic method.

Rough grey rock rose forty meters above them. The safety net jutted out from the wall. It contained only a few blown twigs awaiting collection. The maintenance personnel were diligent in preserving the view.

Saru slid into the water and felt a surge of instinctive elation coupled with a familiar burst of fear. The seawater was like a comforting envelope around him, an environment he found easy to adjust to.

Equally, the more primal areas of his brain identified the ocean as a source of danger. Yet another bit of awful evolutionary dichotomy turning even a place he belonged into a source of continual unease.

He shoved the unease out of his mind, reminding himself this was Risa and not the dark, dangerous ocean of his homeworld. On the raft, Sollis slipped out of her floral wrap to reveal a white bikini that left very little to the imagination, slipped on a rebreather mouthpiece, and dove in.

They set about searching the area. Caxus remained in the boat as support. Sollis swam with the effortless strength and confidence of someone who had spent their entire life in the water. She seemed to know exactly how to read the currents and identify areas where detritus were deposited. She hung in the water, hair haloed around her, and then moved with confidence to target locations.

This close to the beach, most of the seafloor was sand, with the occasional rock poking through the sediment. Patterns of sunlight shifted along the ground in a watery dance, interrupted by the sudden shapes of their shadows and the shadow of the raft. It would have been a beautiful day for a swim under any other circumstance. A piece of drifting seaweed brushed Saru's cheek. He took a bite and found it eminently palatable.

While Sollis dredged the obvious areas of deposit with one of the metal frames, Saru placed sensors along the sand and conducted scans. He pointed out hidden objects and deposit to Sollis, who sifted them up into view.

Their search produced seaworn bits of stick and sunken wood, pieces of coral, bone remnants from native fauna, broken sunglasses and unidentifiable remnants of manmade objects, and an abundance of seashells. Many of the seashells were not local according to Saru's tricorder, but neither were they lului bones.

All of it was either too old or too local to be Lalana, or both.

They moved on. Their next location was equally fruitless, and the third.

As they continued along the cliffs, the seafloor became rockier, the sand sparser, until the sediment existed only as small patches marking natural areas of deposit. This sped the search up somewhat, providing them clear targets even if success remained elusive.

Other boats occasionally went by, waving hellos and sometimes shouting them. Caxus offered only the weakest of waves in return. Twice, locals stopped to inquire as to what was going on, and one group stayed for forty-five minutes to assist before returning to their own lives.

If there was any thought of enlisting others to help, it was not spoken. Saru knew it would speed things up, but they all felt like this was their task, and Saru got the impression from the locals who did stop to help that this was something best kept quiet lest news tarnish the impression of the island as an idyllic seaside harbor. _Everything_ was about tourism on Risa, and Lalana did not rise to the importance of someone who needed to be found. She was too new to the galaxy at large to be missed by more than a handful of people.

Sollis's strokes began to slow with exhaustion. They took a break. Caxus offered Saru water.

"I prefer seawater," Saru said, accepting some fresh fruit and berries instead. He dunked them into the ocean for added flavor.

They resumed. Saru found himself working to penetrate a veritable wall of sargassum seaweed clogging the narrow V of a sharp turn in the cliff, Sollis at his side. The stuff was scratchy, knotted, and dense as a hedgerow.

Saru spotted something through the tangled weeds. He located a gap in the structure and pushed his head and shoulders through, wriggling his torso until his head popped out the other side.

The area behind the seaweed wall was dim and calm, eerily still compared to the open ocean less than a meter away. Little seabugs drifted through the water, feasting on bits of algae suspended in the water.

A broken parasol stood propped up against the rocks, tattered and bleached bone-white by the elements. Saru stared at it, torn between elation and disappointment. He was not sure what result was better: evidence as to Lalana's fate, or the continued possibility she might still be out there. Perhaps Myers was right and her kidnappers were simply too smart to leave any evidence or in possession of stealth technology.

Frustrated, Saru wriggled back out and turned to signal Sollis this, too, was a dead end.

She was not there.

Saru looked for the raft. He could make out the shapes of Caxus and the supply box in the raft's underside. No sign of Sollis.

He looked down.

She was seven meters beneath him, near the base of the cliff. A giant strand of leafy kelp emanating from the cliffside was wrapped around her neck, twisting into her hair. Her fingertips clawed at the kelp, unable to find purchase on the slimy surface.

Saru went rocketing down like a torpedo. He realized as he descended that the giant kelp strand was not merely sticking out from the seawall, it was _dragging Sollis farther down_ like the tentacle of an unseen monster hiding in the rock.

He froze for a moment. It might be a monster, some massive predator laying in wait disguised as a piece of seaweed. He forced himself to ignore the ganglia wriggling freely in the water around the base of his skull and resumed.

He reached Sollis's side. The seaweed was not a monster, just a regular strand of giant Risian kelp drifted in from deeper in the ocean.

Sollis looked at Saru with frantic desperation. The kelp was triple-coiled around her throat. Her face was purpling. The rebreather in her mouth meant she was unlikely to drown, but the seaweed was preventing her from drawing breath. It was so tight, even Saru's slender fingers could not get between it and her skin.

Saru looked for the knife that had been in the strap of Sollis's bikini bottom. It was not there. He looked up at the raft. The boat seemed so far away.

Desperate, Saru grabbed the kelp and tried to bite it. The fibers were too strong, like steel rope.

He looked up again at the raft. He needed to cut Sollis free and return her to the surface. Was there time to go fetch the other knife, or should he look for the missing knife in the rocks below? Would leaving Sollis guarantee her death, or was that the only way to save her?

Racked with indecision, Saru floated in a state of frozen shock, only his ganglia moving. What was the right course of action?

Sollis touched a hand to Saru's arm, face twisted with anguish.

Inaction was worse than incorrect action. Saru looked down, searching for the glint of a blade below or the bright white of its hilt or sheath.

He saw only rocks, and sticks, and bits of broken coral and seaweed and all the useless bits of sea debris that had plagued every step of their search. Meanwhile, Sollis was drifting into unconsciousness in front of him. Her movements were slowing, her eyes losing focus.

The knife would not matter, he realized, if the kelp remained around her throat.

The rebreather fell from Sollis's mouth, releasing a cloud of bubbles that drifted up into the halo of her hair, past the naturally coiling end of the seaweed strand.

The tension was undeniable. Struck by the truth of the matter, Saru wrapped his arms around Sollis and pulled her down.

As they neared the base of the cliff, Saru felt the pull of a current against his skin. There was an eddy hidden in the rock, a powerful natural vortex sucking everything in.

Saru positioned himself between Sollis and the true danger. He wrapped his legs around her torso to keep her in place and grabbed the kelp on either side of her neck. With the end of kelp caught in the vortex no longer taut, Saru was able to loosen the noose around Sollis's neck. He wove the end of the kelp through the loops until the knot was gone.

Pushing away from the vortex was another matter. Saru half-swam, half-climbed up the cliff, using the rock as purchase to ascend with Sollis. She was dead weight, bent in half like a ragdoll, arms and legs dragging through the water.

Saru broke through the surface of the water and shouted for Caxus. They got Sollis into the boat and Caxus pressed his hands against Sollis's breastbone and forced air in through her mouth.

This was all the encouragement Sollis's system needed to reboot. She twitched and gasped to life.

Saru collapsed against the side of the boat, releasing tension of a completely different sort. Shaking, Caxus touched his hands to Sollis's cheeks and pressed his forehead disc to hers. She limply tried to lift her hand in return. She gave up after a moment and lay there, panting and exhausted.

"What happened?" asked Caxus, turning to Saru.

The explanation took some time, Sollis whispering between tiny breaths of air. When Saru had gone through the seaweed, she noticed the giant kelp strand being sucked into the cliff and decided to investigate. She found the vortex and wondered how deep it went. She tried to yank the kelp free, pulling it over her shoulder, only to discover the strand was well and truly stuck.

This was where things went horribly wrong. The kelp stalk had a natural corkscrew twist and tangled around her neck while she was pulling. When she started to swim away, not realizing she was caught, the tangle tightened into a knot. When her fingers failed to release the knot, she reached for her knife, but it fell and was sucked into the vortex before she could retrieve it. All she could do was struggle as the vortex pulled the seaweed tighter and tighter.

"Then Saru came," Sollis whispered.

It seemed a bittersweet rescue to Saru. He had come, and Sollis was alive, yet he was acutely aware of the time he'd spent frozen, staring at her fading face, failing to act. It was less a rescue and more a stroke of luck that he had not been forced to deliver Sollis's lifeless corpse to her husband.

Saru sent the Risians back to shore. Incredibly, Sollis objected, wanting to remain and even get back in the water.

"Anything that's there today will still be there tomorrow," Caxus promised, despite the fact this was demonstrably untrue. Something _could_ get pulled out to sea today and not be there to find tomorrow—but just as likely it had been pulled out to sea a day or even week earlier. This was not a case of "here today, gone tomorrow." It was "here five weeks ago, gone who-knows-when."

Caxus tried to convince Saru to come with them, pointing out the cliffs were too dangerous to investigate alone. Saru waved the concerns aside. "I can remain underwater for forty standard minutes on a single breath, and I am much more adapted to swimming than you are." He looked at Sollis's neck, which was already badly bruising. "You should seek medical attention."

They left Saru with the tools he requested, and he returned to the vortex.

Now that the crisis was over, Saru was able to take full stock of the strange phenomenon. The vortex originated from a hole in the rock almost as wide as Saru's shoulders. It was dark and twisting, turning very sharply in a manner that made it impossible to see more than a meter inside.

Even stranger, according to Saru's tricorder, the exposed rock within was a mixture of very, very old and very, very new. The weathering was extremely inconsistent. The newly exposed rock areas seemed to be mostly at spots which must have been jagged edges at some point, but recently something had passed through and broken off the bits that stuck out.

Saru began to run scans. The hole extended more than twenty meters into the rock, to the edge of Saru's scanner range. He tied a sensor to the end of some rope to get readings from further inside.

This worked to an extent. He managed to map another fifteen meters, but when he tried to pull the sensor back out, the rope snagged and refused to come free, just like the corkscrew kelp. Saru was forced to abandon the sensor and let the end of the rope be sucked into the void.

One thing was clear: this was not a fully natural phenomenon. The age of the oldest rock and the way the hole branched and followed veins of weaker minerals indicated it had natural origins, but something had turned it into a tunnel. Intentionally.

There was nothing Saru could do with the tools he had. He gathered everything up and started swimming back to the beach, barely able to contain his excitement. The answers had to be in that tunnel. They had to be! He rushed to the video call booth.

Myers was more than happy to put in requisition orders for advanced sensors and mapping probes once Saru conveyed his findings. "Everything you need," she promised.

Then Saru called Sollis and Caxus.

He opened his mouth to offer a greeting and no words came out. Sollis and Caxus were sitting on their couch, _completely_ besides themselves. They were shaking and crying and seeming to express every possible humanoid emotion at once. When Sollis tried to speak, all that came out was a wailing noise, and Caxus could make only honking, porpoise-like sounds.

A knife lay on the coffee table in front of them, and a sensor.

Between them sat a blue alien with giant, bright green eyes and a tail curling up into the air that terminated in the shape of a spade. It did not blink because it had no eyelids. Its seemingly furry surface was in actuality millions of tiny little tendrils comprised of cells linked together in a matrix. Cells capable of some form of cellular-level awareness, which chose to be the creature they were.

Lalana spun her hands together. "Hello, Saru."


	11. What Goes Around

Lalana's unblinking eyes were like two beacons of absolute certainty, unchanging points around which the rest of the universe had to be spinning because they were the only things that were not. Orbiting around her were Sollis and Caxus, and the living room, and the video booth. The world outside the booth seemed also to be spinning around those two fixed points. Saru leaned back against the wall of the booth, dizzy.

"How," he asked, not so much a question as an expression of doubt.

Lalana tilted her head to the side. "How what? How many stars are there? How do you do? How does one get to the end of a sphere?"

"How," said Saru again, this time asking the question of himself.

"I know!" Lalana said. "How would you like to come with me to a game?"

The perceived irreverence was sufficient to incite Saru to all-out indignation. He pushed off the booth wall and shouted, "Where have you been?! We have been looking for you everywhere!"

"I have been many places. Recently, in the ocean, and also in a cave which I am filling with water. That is where I found your things." She stretched out one of her legs, tapping the sensor and knife on the table.

On Lalana's left, Caxus pitched forward and covered his face, head against his knees. On Lalana's right, Sollis reached over and put her arms around the lului's neck. The tears on Sollis's face seemed to be from joy as she nestled her face against Lalana. "We were so worried."

"She just came in," Caxus moaned to his feet.

"It was very good you left the window open," said Lalana, placing her tail on Caxus's back. He moaned miserably in response. (Of _course_ she had come in through a window. Stars forbid she do something as reasonable as using a door.)

Saru remained irate. "You have been out of contact for _five weeks_. That is _utterly unacceptable_."

"Is it? Why?"

Saru stared openmouthed. That Lalana could not grasp the full extent of the distress she had caused bordered on criminal, especially given the evidence sitting on either side of her.

Then he closed his eyes. Lalana was an alien. She came from a species and planet so different from any known worlds it was a miracle they were capable of breathing the same atmosphere. This was an ongoing first contact situation. If he was ever going to get his first contact certification, he needed to keep those facts in his head and reframe every interaction in that context.

He exhaled and opened his eyes. Lalana was still there, staring at him with head tilted, Sollis around her neck. "Because," he said, "you have worried us by being out of contact for so long."

Lalana pressed her hands tightly together. "This was not a very long period of time for me."

It wouldn't be, given her lifespan. Saru folded his hands together. "We were afraid something had happened. _I_ was afraid. There are a great many dangers which might have befallen you, and in the absence of any information, I have imagined all of them."

"Nn," went Lalana. "Like what?"

Saru looked away from the video feed, trying to process the horrible request. This day had been full of trials. As much as he was elated to find Lalana completely unharmed, the situation was also very confusing. He felt much like Sollis and Caxus looked: completely overwhelmed by every imaginable emotion, many of them contradictory.

Sollis detached herself from Lalana. "Here, let me send you our address."

* * *

It was yet another trial to find the house on the island's twisting streets. Saru's navigation was not made any easier by the speed at which he ran. He went full out, every stride galloping up meters of ground, pedestrians hurriedly scattering out of his way. Twice he missed turns, but try as he might to keep a more leisurely pace, he always found himself breaking into a run again.

The little yellow house was delightfully charming from the outside and very cozy within, decorated with festive artwork and potted flowers. Sollis and Caxus were recovered enough to answer the door by the time Saru arrived, even if Caxus looked a little like he had just walked out of an explosion and his ears were still ringing.

After the cursory greetings, they offered him tea, which he accepted. They sat in the living room: Sollis, Lalana, and Caxus on one couch, and Saru on the couch opposite. Saru's hand shook faintly as he lifted the teacup. It was a fruit tincture with a floral aroma, which was even better than a real cup of tea under the circumstances. Saru was grateful to have a warm drink to calm his nerves.

"I apologize for your upset," Lalana said, "but there really was no need for concern. I have been having the loveliest adventure!"

The adventure began, of course, with a walk to the cliffs. The beaten path quickly proved far less interesting to Lalana than the ocean below. "There were things to touch down in the ocean, whereas up on the walkway, there were only views. So I climbed down to the water and continued from there. It was very nice. I saw many creatures, far more than around the public beach area. Little bugs and fish, and there was an abundance of microscopic life to interact with. After the sun went down, several phosphorescent creatures emerged. I very much enjoy watching phosphorescent creatures. I understand they can be quite rare on most worlds."

(Saru almost asked if there were phosphorescent creatures on her homeworld, but held his tongue.)

"I was following a swarm of tiny, ten-legged creatures feasting on microbes when they were swept away by the outflow from a passageway extending deep into the rock. It was just big enough for me to squeeze into, but the water flow was too strong to enter at that moment, so I waited until the tidal forces began to shift it towards an inflow. Once that happened, I went in to see how deep the passage was and where it went."

Here, Saru had to interrupt. "This is why you should have contacted someone. What if you had drowned?"

Lalana's head tilted. " _Llow-nn?_ What is that?"

"Drowning is when you swallow a lot of water," said Sollis, "and you can't breathe." She touched her neck. The ugly bruise was not evidence of a drowning incident, but it easily could have been.

"Oh, I am always _drowning_." Lalana's translator adjusted to her pronunciation of the word.

Saru and the Risians looked confused.

"No," said Saru, "it is when the density of water prevents respiratory function."

Lalana tilted her head to the side. "How would that happen?"

"If you were submerged in water longer than you could hold your breath," Caxus said.

"But I cannot breathe," said Lalana. "Certainly, if I halted the influx of processable materials, I would die fairly quickly."

There was a fact known to Saru that the Risians were missing: Lalana did not have lungs. Her respiration occurred on the cellular level over the entire surface of her body. Her millions of tendrils provided ample surface area for respiration. In a sense, her entire body was an external lung.

He also knew, thanks to a survey question posed by Dr. Channick, that Lalana could utilize multiple respiratory processes beyond simple oxygen reactions—for example, chaining cells that produced carbon dioxide to cells that received carbon dioxide and released oxygen. The system was a marvelous feat of efficiency. It had to be, or a creature of her size would never have been able to generate enough energy to move.

There was only one possible solution. Saru's mouth felt dry. "Lalana. Can you survive in water indefinitely?"

"Of course. It contains all the materials I need to function, particularly when it is an ocean as rich as Risa's."

Saru wanted to die a little. At no point in their conversation on the _Shenzhou_ had Lalana offered up this information. The only clue had been her mention of going into the water when the Hla-pu unleashed the biological agent that killed Lumlala, which at the time seemed a minor footnote in her story. In hindsight, the meaning was obvious.

Lalana continued without regard for Saru's inner turmoil, "Water is actually a more sustainable medium than air. On land, you must go to fetch things. In water, not only is locomotion much more energy-effective, if you wait long enough, most things eventually flow to you."

Sollis gazed at Lalana with admiration. "That's amazing."

Saru hung his head. Biology was not his specialty, but he felt like he should have been able to guess at Lalana's aquatic aptitude sooner based on the information he had. He could probably kiss that first contact certification goodbye. He silently chided himself for his monumental hubris in seeking the certification in the first place.

The only person who remained focused on the story rather than the technical details surrounding it was Caxus. "Where did the passage go? Were you in there this whole time?"

Lalana clicked her tongue. (At last, thought Saru, she was registering some level of discomfort at the ordeal she had put them all through.) "No, of course not! I followed the flow of water into the rock, and it was there that I found the cave…"

* * *

According to the guidebooks, the waters of Risa were much warmer than the oceans of other planets, but to Lalana, they still felt cold. Even at the beach, with the sun bearing down, the Risian ocean was not nearly as warm as Luluan.

In the shadows of the cliffside, several turns into the mysterious rock tunnel, the water was even colder.

The passage was far too small to enter under normal conditions. Lalana employed the same technique she would have used to navigate the narrow tunnels into Deepwater Hive on Luluan: she reconfigured her substructure, unhooking several bones and rendering herself as jellylike as possible. She moved with her face forward, riding along with the flow of the water and _lemalallen_ ing along the rock surrounding her.

There was only the faintest bit of light. Most of it came from phosphorescent creatures too weak to escape the inflow. Lalana collected several of them in her mouth as she went to act as a source of illumination. They provided little light, but with her pupils dilated to the fullest, it was sufficient for her to see by.

Deeper and deeper she went, inching around tricky corners and obstacles. Left, right, down, up. The pathway occasionally branched into dead ends left by mineral weaknesses in the surrounding rock. Lalana ignored the branches. She could tell at every junction which way the water wanted to go, and that was the way she wanted to go, too.

At one junction, the passage dipped into a deposit of sand. Lalana opened her matrix wide enough to allow the grains of rock and shell to pass through her, wriggling her way past the obstacle while protecting the glowing creatures in her mouth. The sand acted like a natural filter. The water on the other side of the deposit was murkier and deader, with only simple microbial life forms.

Finally, the passage opened up. Lalana was greeted by her own rippling reflection in the surface of the water above: two eyes with pupils expanded to pitch-black pits above a mouth full of tiny, phosphorescent dots.

She ascended through the water, propelling herself upward by pushing water through her matrix, reassembling her skeleton as she rose to greet her murky image.

Her reflection tore into rippling fragments as she broke through the surface of the water. The chamber beyond was bell-shaped, with an opening that extended up and twisted out of view. The wear pattern on the rock indicated the tides had been much higher at some point in the past; the water formed a kind of bulbous pond.

The water was nearing its highest point now. Lalana pushed air into her matrix until she was floating on top of the water and climbed out of the hole.

A series of gourdlike chambers awaited her, hewn from softer rock by thousands of years of watery incursion back when the tides had been higher. There was a stillness on the air, a dryness to the salt. The place felt old and empty and secret. Husks of desiccated seaweed and remnants of crustaceans were strewn about the sandy floor like confetti after a parade. Tracks in the ancient sediment showed Lalana was not the first to visit this place, but the creatures who had left the marks might have done so weeks, months, or even years before.

Lalana set off across the sand, noting the way the ground sloped downward. The entrance was actually at a higher point than the rest of the cave. The entire area had to have formed back when the current tunnel was just a leaky crack. After the tide lowered, water had been unable to reach the majority of the cave and instead worn away at the harder rock by the entrance, widening the crack into a tunnel while leaving the rest of the cave untouched.

There was a sound in the sand. Lalana froze with her tail stretched out, tensing.

The ground came to life beneath her. A cascade of dark specks crackled and popped. Lalana sprang up into the air with all her strength, _lemalallen_ ing herself to the ceiling.

Little snapping creatures clicked at her feet. They had six legs and clam-like mouths. They clung to her with pincers, sharp beaks pulling off cells from her outermost layers to snack on. She pulled them off with the tendrils of her tail, dropping several back down to the sand below. A few overly persistent ones grabbed onto her tail instead. She mechanically ripped the offenders apart for materials, reducing them to bits of carapace, twitchy segmented legs, and gooey black sludge.

There were plenty more in the sand below. They reacted to the return of their friends with frantic, hungry clicks. Lalana watched the little monsters scavenge one another until the whole horde quieted and returned to a dormant state, waiting for the next bit of flotsam to arrive.

She proceeded along the ceiling, passing from one chamber to the next far out of reach of the snappers.

The caves curved to the left. Suddenly, Lalana found herself entering a large, open chamber, far beyond the power of her mouthful of glowbugs to illuminate.

The darkness verged on absolute. Even with her incredible eyesight, Lalana could barely make out the details, relying on the faintest bounce of photons at the very edge of her visual range. Small stalactites hung from the ceiling, mounds of half-formed stalagmites beneath.

There had been water in here once, an underground tidal lake. The only thing left of it was a layer of silt. Little bumps and mounds in the dust marked the graves of long-dead creatures.

"Lu," she said. The glowbugs in her mouth squirmed as the syllable echoed back to her from far in the distance.

How beautiful it would look, if only it were full of glowbugs and water.

* * *

"So I decided to refill the lake."

The tea was long since finished. Caxus had fallen asleep on the couch. Sollis was nearly unconscious, too, but this simple statement half-roused her from her pre-slumber state. "You what?" she asked.

"I decided to refill the lake, to build a new tourist destination for your planet."

Saru stared, gobsmacked. Lalana had independently decided to _flood a cave_ without the least regard for any of the consequences. "How could you do such a thing?"

"It was not very difficult. I excavated the harder rock near the entrance until it ceased to form a barrier. This allows water to flow in while the tide is high."

Not what he meant in the slightest. "You did not conduct any geological surveys, environmental impact studies…"

"I studied the rock very carefully. In a few thousand Risian years, there will be cause for concern, but this can be mitigated by reinforcing the walls. As for the environment, I will create a balanced ecosystem for the glowbugs."

Saru spoke slowly, as if to a child. "If the cave has been untouched for as long as you suspect, there may be unique biological specimens within it which your actions have caused the death of. Caverns can contain microbiomes of intense specialization not found elsewhere on a planet."

Lalana clicked her tongue. "There are microbiomes of intense specialization and unique life forms everywhere you go, it is simply that most are too small for you to perceive."

The clicks made Saru think Lalana was cognizant of the gravity of the situation, even if she wasn't fully recognizing her mistake. "It is not possible to preserve everything, but at least we should try to preserve those lifeforms which we can. Lalana, what you have done is _extremely_ wrong."

"And yet it is acceptable that every single decontamination procedure you run kills thousands of organisms too small for you to see?"

"That is…" Saru's hands rose towards his chest defensively. He was talking to a creature that existed with an awareness of both macro and micro scales. The simplest procedures of macro scale life equated systemic genocide from her perspective. "…Simply to protect ourselves. Most microorganisms cannot be reasoned or communicated with."

"So it is justifiable to kill something so long as you cannot converse with it?"

Saru lowered his hands to his lap. "It is unfortunately where the line is most typically drawn." _Among predators_ , he mentally added, though the distinction between prey and plant was probably not so enormous from Lalana's perspective, either.

"Two wrongs don't make a right," Sollis said. "I'm sorry if we seem terrible to you for those actions, but that doesn't mean it's right to engage in the same behavior."

"You are not terrible," said Lalana. "You are entirely lovely. Even more beautiful than a lake full of glowbugs."

Sollis curled up against Lalana. "I'm sure it will be beautiful, but next time, ask."

"Very well," said Lalana. "I have located a spot on the island to build a home of my own. What question must I ask?"

"That…" Sollis looked to Caxus, who remained sleeping, and then to Saru.

Saru had an educated guess as to what Sollis was reluctant to say. "Non-Risians are not permitted permanent residence on Risa. The visa which you were granted upon entry to Risa has an expiry." The Risians viewed their planet as so beautiful that if visitors were allowed to stay, there would be a tremendous overpopulation problem.

Lalana pressed her hands together, curled her tail around her legs, and became totally still.

"We'll get it extended," Sollis said. "We'll sponsor you so you can stay with us as long as you want."

Lalana turned her head to Sollis. "And when you have died?"

The question was particularly macabre given the day's events. Sollis drew back, pressed her hand to her mouth, and went from the couch to the stairs, disappearing up the second floor.

"Lalana," said Saru. "You should not have asked that. Your actions, disappearing as you did—Sollis nearly died as a result of them. When we were looking for you, she became entangled in a stalk of kelp which was sucked into the hole you created. To touch upon the possibility in light of this recent event was not polite."

"But she did not die."

"She could have."

Lalana tapped her fingers together. "If something does not happen, it is an impossibility. If something does, it was a certainty. There are no things-which-may-happen. There are only things which do happen, and things which do not. As Sollis is not dead, she could not have died."

This time, Saru was ready with a response, thanks to his interim conversation with Paxton. Mindful that Lalana's translator would likely not contain all of the terms he was about to use, he carefully framed them within contextual explanation that he hoped would get his meaning across. "What you are describing is determinism, a philosophy which posits all events are fixed based on the events which precede them. While it may seem plausible given the manner in which history unfolds, it ignores a scale which is even smaller than microscopic: the quantum scale of subatomic physics.

"It is entirely possible, given identical circumstances, for different outcomes to result. There is a human thought experiment which illustrates this concept." (Since Saru's people had never reached this level of scientific discourse themselves, an alarming number of his educational touchstones came from human teachings.) "A creature is placed inside a sealed box with a device which will kill the creature if a radioactive particle decays. Whether or not the creature is alive or dead cannot be determined unless the box is opened and the results observed. Until the box is opened, both states of the creature—alive and dead—may be supposed as being true.

"In reality, of course, the creature will be in one state or the other, however, when we examine physics on the quantum scale, it turns out it is possible for both states to be true. This is a subset of the quantum concept of _superposition_. As difficult as it may be to accept the idea of multiple contradictory states being simultaneously true, the phenomenon has been practically applied in the field of quantum computing."

Lalana spun her hands happily. "What a delightful proposition!" she concluded. "Humans thought to test this? Could they not have devised a protocol which did not require the creature to be in the box?"

Saru pressed his hands together. The most basic concept had been the most confusing for Lalana, of course. Just like _drowning_. "A thought experiment is one conducted purely in the imagination, not in reality."

"If reality is in a state of superposition, then perhaps these tests are in a similar state and have been conducted. They were simply not conducted in the frame of reality in which we exist." Lalana's tongue clicked.

Saru's mouth fell open. Even without specifying the type of creature to be used in such an experiment, it was indeed a disturbing thought—but more importantly, Lalana had understood the ramifications of quantum superposition with remarkable speed. It had taken Saru much longer to wrap his head around the concept back when he had been studying it for the first time.

A creak sounded from the stairwell. Sollis appeared, silken robe fluttering around her legs as she descended back down to the living room.

"I did not mean to upset you," Lalana said to Sollis. "The timescale of your death relative to my own lifespan is rather inconsequential, and we lului do not view death the same way as you and the other humanoid species I have met."

Sollis returned to the couch with a weak smile. "I know. Thank you."

"Saru has told me it was impolite of me to say this to you when I did. I will therefore revisit the subject in forty to sixty of your years, when it would be more appropriate to discuss."

Sollis clapped a hand to her mouth, this time to stave off the emergence of a laugh that might rouse Caxus. "Okay," she whispered. Her hand fell away. "We have to deal with the whole underground lake, but we'll figure it out."

Saru sighed softly. Imparting the sense to leave certain subjects to a more appropriate time was a small victory in the wake of a massive, massive mistake. How was Lalana ever going to learn to get by in the universe on her own at this rate?

"How strange," said Lalana, "that one thing you would wish to know in under five of your weeks, and another thing might wait forty of your years."

"I still can't believe you spent five weeks in a dark cave!" said Sollis.

"Oh, no," said Lalana. "After I decided to fill the lake, I realized I would need tools if I wished to complete the endeavor within your lifetime, so I exited the cave at the next tidal equilibrium…"

The decision to flood the cave was not the end of the adventure, it was the beginning.

The gathering of tools was simpler than Saru expected. There were several heavy metal bars abandoned at the bottom of the island's main harbor. Lalana selected three bars which would fit through the twists and turns of the tunnel, lashed them to floats purloined from docked boats until they were buoyant enough to move easily through the water, and then brought them over to the tunnel entrance.

The water was in full outflow at that point. "While I was waiting for the next tidal shift, I saw a large aquatic creature in the distance. I swam out to meet it. It was three times my length, with six large flippers, a long tube-shaped mouth, and smooth skin."

"A cora-whale," mumbled Sollis. Her eyes were half-lidded, drifting shut every few seconds.

"Perhaps this is more detail than is necessary," Saru gently suggested.

"To fully understand how a moment is reached, you must understand the path that leads to it," said Lalana. "The cora-whale was not aggressive, so I accompanied it for some time. It was very peaceful out in the open ocean. I saw several species…"

The description of aquatic life continued, Sollis naming the ones she recognized until her eyes closed for good and all identification ceased.

"Finally, the cora-whale brought me to a boat sitting out on the water. The people on the boat were very surprised when the cora-whale surfaced with me on its back. They were even more surprised when I spoke to them."

Saru jerked upright. A thousand questions raced through his mind, united by a single undercurrent of truth: this whole time, someone had known where Lalana was. Not him, not Sollis and Caxus, not the Risian authorities, but _someone_. He shook faintly as he realized the truth of where Lalana had been the past five weeks.

"According to the boat's captain, cora-whales are considered a sign of good luck, and since all of the people on the boat were engaged in games of chance, they invited me to join them…"


	12. A Whale of a Tale

_A/N:_ _Some sources state Risa has two moons, but deleted scenes in Enterprise were going to say it has three, and I think that's more interesting given the history of extreme weather and seismic instability. (Which is alluded to with the cave formation in the previous chapter.) So three it shall be for this story._

 _Just so no one goes Googling for information on species I made up, Qrikurians and cora-whales were invented for this story._

* * *

In many respects, twenty-five kilometers off the coast of Risa was as good as the surface of the moon. As Arad checked the _Cressa_ 's scanners to ensure no other boats were within range, he was thankful for the many ways in which it was not.

The atmosphere, for a start. A gentle ocean breeze rippled the orange-and-blue homeport flag hanging from the cockpit awning and tugged at Arad's dark, curly hair and beard. The day was idyllic. There was no need to worry about running out of oxygen or being hit by space junk. On a moon or starship, the cold, hard vacuum of space was generally less than a meter of metal away from your face—and the tiniest miscalculation could change that for the worse.

Then there was the matter of access. You needed a transporter or shuttlecraft and a flight plan to go to any of Risa's three moons, and you could only go to prefabricated spots unless you fancied a walk in a spacesuit (which Arad did not).

The ocean could be accessed by hopping onto a piece of floating wood. If you were being totally by-the-book, you might register your itinerary with the Harbor Authority for safety's sake, but it was not a requirement for personal vessels to declare anything unless they were carrying more than six off-world passengers. The _Cressa_ could hold that many, but Arad rarely brought that many tourists aboard at once. More passengers meant more complications. He liked things simple.

Anyway, he was not the sort of ship captain who filed itineraries. His passengers preferred it that way.

The only witness to his current voyage was the moon hanging overhead. Once upon a time, it and its two sisters had been a source of chaos and instability, subjecting Risa to massive tidal forces that eroded islands almost as fast as they were formed. Ancient Risians had worshiped the moons as nightmarish gods with appetites impossible to appease.

Nowadays, the pale, pinkish disc in the sky was little more than decoration, and Arad was glad for it. He would not have wanted to sail on the ocean prior to the installation of the weather control system for anything. He was willing to do it now because the ocean was like the moon in one very important regard:

No one claimed jurisdiction.

"All right, people," he announced, turning to address the assemblage of ne'er-do-wells lounging on the deck chairs. "Welcome to lawless waters."

The five passengers on the _Cressa_ were not typical Risian tourists. They were five of the galaxy's most fearsome and violent spacefarers. Bounty hunters, independent "traders," fixers, and a beautiful Farian woman Arad had no interest in knowing what she did, because whatever it was, it certainly wasn't good.

They were also all at their peak of their respective trades. They commanded considerable personal wealth, but their occupations made it hard for them to relax in any of Risa's resorts, red light districts, or seedy taverns. Inhabited areas contained dangers for people whose faces sometimes adorned wanted posters. Assassins and rivals might be waiting in ambush around any corner or in legally booked hotel rooms.

This did not mean they had no wish to partake in the pleasures to be found on Risa, just that they required slightly more off-the-grid vacation plans.

Arad performed a valuable service for his planet by bringing them out onto the water. Here, they could unwind and relax, and it kept them away from the other, less worldly tourists who found them unsettling.

Arad also found them unsettling, but their money went a long way towards easing his nerves. "Most of you have been out here before, but for those who haven't and as a general reminder, lawless waters does not mean there is no law. It means the captain's word is law." A pair of Orion guards stood ready by the cabin hatch to enforce that law. "With that said, let the games begin!"

The tables were set, cards and dice and gambling apparatus from several worlds provided. All games had been agreed upon and scheduled in advance to ensure everyone had the chance to play something they enjoyed. They were also, being far outside any oversight, able to stake unusual and highly lucrative items a normal table would have prohibited, though that stage of the game was likely to come much later.

Verra emerged from the cabin with refreshments and food. The Orion woman was Arad's silent partner in the venture. She was the one who ventured out into the illegal spaceports he found so terrifying to drum up clients, while he supplied the local sponsorship that made their operation possible (and the boat). Verra also did background checks on their client. There was no point in bringing five probable killers together only to discover on the docks that two of them were blood rivals.

Arad watched the action from his seat at the bulkhead. It wasn't always gambling. Sometimes, they provided orgies or fishing or sunbathing. Today's crowd had come because gambling was their preferred vice. Each was keen to experience a guaranteed fair game run by a third party with no incentive to cheat any of them. Though there was honor to be had among thieves, it was in such short supply they were willing to pay quite handsomely to ensure it.

They were playing Andorian ice-rem—a dice game in which melting ice revealed the face of the die underneath rather than the die being rolled—when the proximity sensor went _ping!_

Arad turned to the console. Something was approaching under the water, slow but steady. "Heads up," he called out. "We have a visitor."

The guests looked up from the game with various states of alarm. The Andorian was winning, of course, but they were all enjoying themselves with the exception of a Coridanite who had staked too much on a bad bet towards the beginning. None of them wanted to call it quits yet.

Arad only smiled at them. "This is a good visitor. Come see."

The guests joined him at the railing.

"Of the many sea creatures on Risa, few are considered as lucky as the cora-whale. They travel between islands in search of nesting grounds. In ancient times, if you were lost, you could tie your boat to a cora-whale and it would bring you to land. They're remarkable creatures, gentle and curious, with noses that can smell food at great distances." Tourist boats were also in the habit of dropping food overboard to attract them, which was why the whales so frequently came to investigate vessels. The giant fish liked free meals.

Arad had a seaweed bar stashed under the navigation console. He unwrapped it, rubbed it between his hands until it broke into pieces small enough for the cora-whale's narrow mouth tube, and tossed them overboard.

The whale beelined for the snack. As it neared the _Cressa_ , something broke through the surface of the water.

"What in three moons," said Arad.

A giant blue lump bulged up from the middle of the whale's back. Two large, flat, glassy, green eyes were fixed on the sky overhead.

"Is it supposed to look like that?" asked Kaelle, the Farian, leaning against the railing. Her long, red hair shifted in the breeze, strands dancing across the thin straps of her tight, grey dress.

The combination of low-cut dress and beautiful woman leaning forward would normally have drawn Arad's eye, but he was transfixed by the weird blue lump. "No."

The cora-whale slowed and sucked its mouthtube at the food in the water. Its six fins undulated in a holding pattern as it fed. The motionless blue lump on its back stared up at the moon.

Arad stroked his beard. "It must be some sort of parasite. Off-world for sure."

"Poor thing," said B'Gexur, a craggy-faced Axanarri who was probably the most reputable of the bunch. To the casual observer, B'Gexur was a trader with a knack for procuring rare materials. That his shipments frequently contained items of less-than-legal status was a distinction known only in certain circles. "Perhaps its luck has turned."

"Actually, I think ours might have," said Arad. "Legend has it, if you help a cora-whale, you'll know fortune beyond measure." Plus, there might be a reward from the Tourism Bureau. Cora-whales were practically the planet's oceanic mascot.

The Andorian, Shanaar, considered the creature. His twin blue antenna twitched in contemplation. Shanaar was a raider, bounty hunter, and general battlecaptain-for-hire. Though he was having plenty of luck in ice-rem, there was no way of knowing if his luck would hold. He wasn't above a bit of light superstition. "I see no harm in trying."

"It could be dangerous," warned the raven-haired Coridanite, Jokab. He looked the least dangerous of the group, but he had probably caused more suffering than all the others combined. He smuggled and distributed drugs, often with political intent. His addictive products were responsible for the financial and emotional ruin of colonies and stations across several sectors.

B'Gexur chuckled. "If anyone needs his luck to change, it's you. Perhaps you should do the honors!"

"How would we even go about removing it?" asked Kaelle.

The sole guest who had yet to speak was a Qrikurian, Zehrrg-ib, who hovered at the end of the railing obscured by a full environmental suit. As a registered agent of the Qrikur Shadow Rangers, it dabbled in a little bit of everything. Its voice emerged as a raspy buzz. "With prejudice."

"You could simply ask," said the lump.

To the credit of everyone on the boat, none of them screamed, though Jokab let out an undignified gasp. Kaelle threw her arms up in the air and stepped back from the railing. The others followed suit. The two Orion guards did the opposite and stepped forward. Only Zehrrg-ib did not react in any meaningful way.

The lump sat up, resolving into a fluffy, stumpy torso with short arms, long legs, and a tail. "I am not permanently attached, nor am I parasite," it said.

"Holy horga'hn," said Arad.

Shanaar's antennae twitched. "What are you?"

"A visitor to Risa. And you? You do not appear to be a native."

Shanaar snorted with bemusement.

Jokab backed up against the card table. "What is this… This is some sort of trap!"

"Casting aspersions to deflect suspicion away from yourself?" said B'Gexur. "Come now, Jokab, you weren't losing that badly, and your game's still to come!"

"You," said Jokab, pointing to Arad. "You set this up!"

Things were about go very bad, very fast. Arad raised his hands in surrender. "We had nothing to do with this. Our only goal is to provide a safe venue for your vacation. You know our reputation. Everyone comes alive, everyone leaves alive."

"Then how did it get here!" Jokab demanded.

Arad looked at Verra. Her eyes were shut in concentration. She was trying very hard to diffuse the situation with pheromones. The open air and breeze were not helping.

"The fish brought me," said the lump.

Arad swallowed. While the other guests were not being as vocal, the same question was written on their faces. "We all feed the cora-whales," he said. "They follow our boats. And you are welcome to use your emergency transport out if you don't believe me."

Jokab shifted from side to side and clenched his fists. The Coridian was not totally convinced, but the sneer on his face was softening. He was willing to entertain the possibility this was not a targeted conspiracy.

Perhaps because the creature was blue and this was not his first trip with Arad—or perhaps because he was confident in his own combat skills—Shanaar was the least concerned. He regarded the alien with curiosity rather than fear. "Are you dangerous?" he asked it.

"All things are dangerous, depending on circumstance. If you are trying to ask if I am aggressive, the answer is no. If I were going to attack you, would I have not done so already? If would have been a simple matter to act while I had the element of surprise, or to have hidden myself along the underside of your boat in search of an opportune moment for action. Since I have not, you may predict that I will not. As it stands, I did not know that I was going to meet you. I am simply going where the fish does. What tremendous luck that it brought me to you, out of all the things in the ocean! It might just have easily brought me to another of its species, or a food source, or a different boat, or perhaps to nothing at all. Are any of you also the only known members of your species?"

Arad relaxed. Unless it was playing a long con of some sort, the only danger this alien seemed to pose was talking to them to death.

"You weren't sent by anybody?" asked Shanaar.

"I prefer to go to places rather than be sent to them."

"He means who do you work for," Kaelle clarified.

"Work is not a process in which my species engages," said the alien. "Regardless, is not the purpose of Risa to play instead of work?"

"Remarkable," said Shanaar. "Did you really end up here accidentally?"

"Certainly not, the cora-whale knew exactly where it wanted to go."

Kaelle leaned her back against the railing and crossed her arms. She fixed Jokab with a dim glare. "I don't suppose you fed your poison to a race of giant blue talking rats? No? Then what are you afraid of?"

"All right, that's enough picking on Jokab," said B'Gexur. "His business is as legitimate as yours, Kaelle."

In the midst of all this talking, the cora-whale finished the last of the seaweed bar. Its mouth-tube vainly twitched along the surface of the water in search of more. Concluding it had eaten all it was going to get here, it began to scan left and right for its next meal.

"I believe my friend is leaving now," said the blue alien. "It was very nice to meet you all. Perhaps I will see you again someday and visit your planets!"

"You stay, question," said Zehrrg-ib.

The creature twisted its head. "I would be delighted." It detached from the cora-whale and started swimming for the boat.

The other guests looked at Zehrrg-ib. Zehrrg-ib had no facial expression visible for them to read, so none of them could guess what the ranger was thinking.

"We should take a vote," said Shanaar. "All in favor?"

B'Gexur raised a hand. Kaelle tentatively followed suit. With Zehrrg-ib, that made three. Shanaar raised his own hand and made it four. Jokab scowled.

The creature climbed up the side of the boat and perched on the railing. "I am Lalana. Who are you?"

The guests offered their names, nothing more. Kaelle tucked her hair behind her ear. "Do you like to gamble?"

Lalana spun her hands in front of her. "I do not know. I have never done it before."

Shanaar quirked an eyebrow and an antenna at Kaelle suggestively and asked, "Would you like to learn?"

* * *

When Lalana won her third consecutive round of ice-rem, the other players began to suspect something was up.

"I thought you said you'd never played before," Shanaar said. Even he hadn't managed to win three times in a row—twice was hard enough.

Lalana sat bunched on the chair they had provided, manipulating the chips she had been given with her tail. Kaelle, B'Gexur, and Shanaar had each loaned her some of theirs. The pile was steadily growing. "I have not. However, determining which dice face will be revealed in what order is not so difficult when the temperatures are so different."

B'Gexur regarded Lalana with surprise. "You can tell the difference?"

"Certainly. Lower light ranges offer insight into the surface temperature of objects."

Shanaar's brow furrowed. He could vaguely tell the order of the melt thanks to his knowledge of the subtleties of ice formation, and he had not expected to be bested by anyone at his own game. Infrared vision was on a completely different level.

Kaelle poked the most recently melted die. "But the numbers under the ice are random."

"Those are also visible. Not completely, but slight variations in the tone of the refracted light narrow the possible numbers considerably."

"This is completely unfair," grumbled Jokab.

"Jokab has a point," said Kaelle. "She's cheating."

" _Hlii-tiin_?" repeated Lalana.

"The point of a game of chance," said B'Gexur, "is that everyone is supposed to have an equal opportunity to win at the outset. Experience and instinct may lend you an edge, but there is always a chance, no matter what your skill level, that luck will be in your favor. If you can read the numbers on the dice and see how they will melt, this is not a game of chance for you."

Lalana rolled her tongue into a tube and whistled. "I see. I will cover my eyes." She placed the flat end of her tail over her face.

" _Reset_ ," buzzed Zehrrg-ib. "Advantage outside game parameters."

Kaelle sighed loudly. "Does anyone remember how many chips we all had before she started playing?"

Lalana shifted her tail over to her chips. "Yes. You had this many"—she pushed a stack to Shanaar—"and you had this many…" She continued around the table until everyone was restored to the proper amount.

"You want to do my taxes?" Arad remarked from his cockpit perch.

"What did you say your species was called?" asked B'Gexur.

"Lului."

With her eyes covered, Lalana did not win any of the remaining rounds of ice-rem. Jokab managed to win two, which improved his spirits slightly, but Shanaar was the clear victor with four of thirteen wins.

The next game, Gederra, was a more strategic endeavor involving flat, pentagonal tokens with values on one side. Each player was dealt five and the remaining tokens were placed face-down in the center of the table. The goal was to create a chain of colors or values by swapping the unknown tokens in the "arena" with the "gladiator" tokens in hand. The chance element was in the initial deal and the unknown values of the tokens on the field. The strategy involved knowing what tokens you held and had placed, as well as anticipating the requirement to swap at least one token every round, even if you held the perfect hand. After five swaps, whoever had the best chain won.

Being a longer game, they played only three rounds. B'Gexur, Jokab, and Kaelle each won one. Lalana placed a respectable second on the first and last rounds, earning a modest portion of the pot as runner-up. Then they moved on to Anaxarri two-card, a game which entailed betting on the total value of two cards. The game was very quick to play and fortunes rose and fell in rapid succession.

They talked as they played, the chatter varying in intensity depending on the stakes. B'Gexur peppered Lalana with questions about her species, everything from diet to habitat to hobbies, which she happily answered.

"And what of the males of your species?" B'Gexur asked.

"We do not have genders. All lului are the same."

"How remarkable! So you are in fact a _xe_ , like me. Forgive me. I, above all others, should have known to ask." B'Gexur smiled, displaying all xeir pointy yellow teeth.

"I do not mind. I lived for many years with Dartarans."

"Play the game," snarled Shanaar, who had run into a spate of bad luck on the past few hands. The cards simply would not go his way.

B'Gexur only laughed. B'Gexur could have lost everything xe had brought to offer as stakes and still walked away the wealthiest person at the table. It made B'Gexur immune to the pressure of experiencing any real loss.

They finished the two-card and moved on to a dice roll game from Qrikur. It proved to be the most unpredictable of the games, to Zehrrg-ib's delight. The mysterious Shadow Ranger buzzed excitedly every time a roll went completely off the rails, even if it meant its own loss.

Finally, it was time for the main event: Tredican, a game where players held four cards and shared a common set of four more. It had elements of matching and strategy like Gederra, intense betting like two-card, and Lalana quickly discovered the path to victory was not in holding the best hand, but in making your opponents _think_ you did.

The bets began to get extreme.

"I offer exclusive Orion Syndicate contract on fugitive Ssiraa of Gorn, value two-point-three million upon receipt of head," said Zehrrg-ib.

B'Gexur stroked the bumpy ridge along his cheekbone. "Minus expenses," he countered. "I can't hunt that bounty myself, unless you're packaging your services with it. Otherwise, how can I be sure you're not just trying to offload a contract you can't fulfill?"

Zehrrg-ib buzzed angrily, points of its fingers twitching. "Shadow Ranger never fails contract."

"I'm fine with minus expenses," offered Shanaar.

"I want a lien against completion of said contract," said B'Gexur. "Otherwise, value it at one-point-seven. I'd have to subcontract to collect."

"One-seven," Zehrrg-ib agreed. Shanaar and B'Gexur matched the bet. "Show cards."

Zehrrg-ib had a Tredican Great Straight and won the contract back on the spot, collecting two heavy phaser mounts from Shanaar and a rare Edosian statue from B'Gexur, along with the more modest sums Kaelle and Jokab had wagered before folding.

All Lalana could do was watch. The buy-in for each hand had increased to the point that participating would require her going all-in with all her winnings from earlier in the day. She did not possess wealth on the scale of these grand wagers.

Kaelle watched Lalana from the corner of her eye. She leaned over and said in a low voice, "It's too bad. You're quite the player. You have the perfect poker face."

Lalana spun her hands. Whatever a poker face was, it was nice to have a perfect one.

* * *

"The next wager went even bigger. Mining rights to the asteroid belt of Orelli Major. Blackmail material on the prime minister of a sovereign planet with a population of more than four billion…"

Saru stared at Lalana, his eyes greenish with fatigue. The details of her story had stretched its telling out over the entire night. The sun had risen. Birds were chirping outside the window. The wetsuit that had been a comfort in the Risian ocean had become a dry, paper-stiff inconvenience. It chafed every time Saru made the tiniest movement. On either side of Lalana, Sollis and Caxus remained in a state of slumber, but that was sure to end soon.

Saru barely had any concept of what he was listening to at this point. A ledger of betting rounds, maybe. B'Gexur won the blackmail from Kaelle, and then Shanaar was in a showdown with Jokab, wagering three autonomous strike craft against a drug production facility.

"Jokab raised, offering a racing craft worth even more than the facility. Rather than meet the raise, Shanaar folded. Jokab did not show his cards, but he had a four, a six, a twelve, and a trident, meaning his best hand against the common pile was a pair of tridents. Shanaar's three threes would have won if he had taken the bet. But now I must go."

Lalana slid down from the couch and started for the open window.

It was such a sudden change that it took Saru a moment to process what had happened. His head jerked up, his eyes went blue alert, and he pivoted in his seat to face Lalana. "Where are you going?"

"I have an appointment. Do not worry. I will only be gone for the day." She hopped onto the windowsill.

Saru leapt up from his seat. "Wait!" It wasn't a full shout—Sollis and Caxus were still sleeping—but it was sufficiently desperate to give Lalana pause.

"I cannot," she said. "I must keep the appointment. But you are welcome to come with me."

Saru froze, a thousand doubts racing through his mind. Whatever Lalana was doing, it probably was going to cause even more trouble. The last thing he wanted was to get into trouble. The smarter thing to do was probably to stay there.

"Are you coming?"

Saru straightened. "You should remain here with Sollis and Caxus."

"If I remain here, I will miss my appointment. I cannot be in two places at once, Saru." She hopped down from the window into the side garden.

The moment she disappeared from view, Saru found himself dashing to the window. "Wait," he hissed. "Lalana!"

She looked back at him. "Come, or do not come, Saru. You cannot be in two places at once, either." She crouched down in preparation for a jump.

Fighting his every instinct to flee and climb into the nearest closet, Saru scrambled through the window and went sprawling into the plants below. He managed to right himself.

"Keep up," said Lalana, and jumped over the side gate to the street.

Saru opened the gate and ran after Lalana.

As wild a sight as Saru had been running down the streets the evening before, he and Lalana made an even wilder-looking pair. Lalana did not move anywhere near Saru's top speed, but she was faster than any of the humanoids strolling around them. They were soon at the seaside.

A boat sat waiting at the end of a dock. Saru's ganglia were writhing even before they set foot on the wooden boards. Two Orion guards stood next to the gangway, green muscles glistening in the Risian sun. Seven humanoids were aboard the boat: a bearded Risian, an Orion woman, an Axanarri, an Andorian, a Farian, a Qrikurian, and a dark-haired human male.

Arad jumped out onto the gangway at Saru and Lalana's approach. "Hold up," he said, gesturing for them to stop. "Who the hell is this?"

Saru stopped. Lalana kept walking. "This is my friend Saru. Saru, meet sea-Captain Arad, Verra of Orion, space-Captain Shanaar, First-Point Shadow Ranger Zehrrg-ib, Kaelle, B'Gexur, and Peter Bhandary."

B'Gexur groaned loudly from the deck. "Come now! That's not fair, introducing us to a stranger."

Saru drew back as he scanned their faces. Though none of the names were familiar outside of the context of Lalana's story, he recognized one of them from the Federation's database of most wanted criminals, and her name was not Kaelle.

Next to the railing, silken gown clinging to her body and red hair floating in the wind, stood Peresse the Unforgivable. She was the primary suspect in two high-profile assassinations and a person of interest in at least two more. She was guilty of sabotaging elections, blackmailing officials, and numerous acts of espionage. The government of Wernad Prime had ordered her execution.

Lalana clicked her tongue at B'Gexur's objection. "Saru is not a stranger. I have known him longer than I have known most of you."

The clicks seemed to mirror Saru's distress. He knew the players in Lalana's story had to be criminals, but he had not realized the caliber of their crimes. These were not common thieves. They were the sort of people who would put a bounty on your head if you displeased them.

Saru fought the urge to run. His ganglia danced a mambo around his neck.

Shanaar regarded Saru with a sneer. "He is a stranger to _us_."

Lalana twisted her head. "But I have now introduced you. May he not come with us?"

"Absolutely not," said Arad. "Look, you're new to the galaxy, but that isn't how this works."

"I will pay for Saru's passage," said Lalana. She looked at Peter Bhandary.

Bhandary was tall and thin, with short, sleek hair and warm brown skin. His response to this statement was to look anywhere but at her.

"That's not the issue," Arad said.

Saru tensed. It was a relief that a bunch of criminals didn't want him to go with them, but that didn't resolve the real problem. "Lalana, we must return to the house at once. These…" He stopped himself. If he outed her new companions as career criminals, they might retaliate in response to the revelation. He grasped for the first alternative reason he could. "Gambling is a terrible vice. You should not engage in it."

This elicited exclamations of scorn and dismay from the group.

"What a bore," said Kaelle/Peresse.

"Witness," said Zehrrg-ib.

That shut everyone up.

The discussion quickly became where to stash Saru. They could not let someone who knew they were gathered on Risa wander off with that information. Not until they were all safely off-world, anyway.

Lalana punctuated their discussion with various tongue-clicks and finally said, "The best place to put something is where you can see it. There is no safer place for Saru to be than on the boat, where everyone can see him. I promise he will not cause trouble. His manners are excellent."

"We should cancel the game," Shanaar said.

Lalana began to knock her hands together. "Nn, but my visa is expiring soon. I will have to leave Risa and may never get the chance to play with you again! I so wanted to place big wagers in Tredican with you all after you so kindly taught me how to play."

Saru would have turned white if his skin were capable of it. He would have called for help if there hadn't been two Orion guards glowering at him and definitely thinking about how to pulverize him should he try anything. He might outrun them, but what would they do to Lalana if he did? Or, for that matter, Peter Bhandary—the human Lalana had mentioned meeting during her stay with Margeh and T'rond'n, who had suddenly turned up on Risa for the apparent purpose of supplying her with money.

"What if I offer you a lien against the possibility of infraction?" Lalana said. "If Saru takes any action which affects the outcome of any game, I will forfeit all my winnings, to be divided evenly among the rest of you."

B'Gexur looked at Bhandary. "You are guaranteeing her stake? At levels commensurate with ours?"

Bhandary nodded.

"Then I, for one, am happy for the guest of such an esteemed player," smiled B'Gexur, bowing.

"Hmph," went Shanaar.

"Well, I'm not letting anyone aboard until after they've had a background check," Arad said, waving Verra over.

Saru produced his hand to be scanned, shaking the whole time. Arad and Verra went to the other side of the dock to confer and run the scan against the tourist registry. They were going to know exactly who Saru was in very short order.

"We should leave," Saru whispered to Lalana. "If we run, they will not be able to catch us."

"We cannot. I cannot afford to miss this game, and as you will need to come with us to guarantee your goodwill, then we must both go." She spun her hands, throwing Saru for a loop. She was _pleased_ about this turn of events?

"I don't think you understand what we are walking into. These people are far more dangerous than you realize. And _lying_ to convince them to move ahead?"

"I have not lied."

"You said your visa was expiring!"

"It will expire when Sollis and Caxus die, will it not?"

The lului definition of "soon" clearly did not align with the rest of the galaxy's timekeeping practices.

Arad and Verra came over. Arad looked _very_ displeased. "He's _Starfleet_ ," Arad said in a low voice so the guests on the boat would not hear.

Saru twitched, eyeing the Orion guards. "P-Pursuant to Federation code 5-6-0-C, you—are hereby—"

"Shove it, Starfleet, unless you want to get murdered by someone on that boat." Arad straightened. "How did you think this was gonna go, Lalana?"

Lalana pressed her hands together. "Over the water."

Arad rolled his eyes. "You asked us to arrange this. I'll tell them he's a tourist, but he's gonna have to agree, and so will they. Otherwise, he's riding in steerage."

"Perhaps you should simply call it off," Saru said feebly.

"With the kickbacks your friend here is offering us? I don't think so. Now, choose."


	13. Luck Be a Lady Tonight

I know "x" pronouns can be a little annoying to read. But I couldn't resist, given that the Axanarri are androgynous and the letter X is prominent in their language. B'Gexur isn't in the whole fic, I promise! Just hang in there a little while longer. :)

* * *

It was thirty minutes before the day shift started on the USS _Shenzhou_. T'Vora was arranging the overnight reports in the ready room for Georgiou's benefit when the door chimed. "Come," she said.

She knew it wouldn't be Georgiou—the captain need not chime the door for entry—but she was surprised to find Commander Jones on the threshold, the lights and sounds of the bridge behind him. The graveyard crew were busy preparing for the daily handoff to their first-shift counterparts. "Can I help you, Commander?"

"I was wondering if I might have a word with you." Jones glanced around the ready room. "In private."

"Certainly. One moment." T'Vora finished arranging the reports. It had been an entirely routine night, which meant a lot had gotten done. System and subroutines had been checked to ensure their optimal performance for the captain and day shift crew. Panels had been cleaned, garbage recycled, and various reserves topped off. Daytime tasks had been reviewed and reports triple-checked in preparation for final filing with Starfleet Command. The smooth performance of the day shift was largely a result of the efforts the night shift took to set everything up. Confident Georgiou would find the reports in order, T'Vora looked up at Jones, her face neutral. "You may enter."

Jones hesitated, his right hand clutching at his side. "I'd prefer… somewhere else."

It was an odd request, but as T'Vora knew, humans were an odd species. They were often taken by flights of illogic. "Would the conference room suit you?"

Jones nodded. "Sure."

The long, open conference room seemed to lessen Jones' unease only a little. His lips shifted over his teeth in a display of discomfort.

"Is something wrong, Commander?"

Jones gestured to the chairs nearest the door. T'Vora inclined her head and they sat.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about the _Edison_ ," said Jones.

"You wish to submit yourself for consideration?" The question might have been a challenge or an invitation. T'Vora's face and tone betrayed nothing. She had been expecting this ever since announcement of her promotion had gone public the day before. It was common, when first officers left for their own command, for them to bring over some crew from their previous ship to ease the transition. She had already drafted a shortlist of personnel. Jones was not on it.

"I have some candidates I'd like you to consider from second and third shifts."

T'Vora stared impassively. She had anticipated an action of human greed, not charity. "I have already completed my candidate list."

Jones wrung his hands. "I was afraid of that. Listen, T'Vora…" He sighed heavily. "There's a lot of talent on second and third shifts that's being completely ignored. Promising officers that could have a real chance if they were on another ship."

"The ship should make no difference if the officer is promising," T'Vora said.

Jones rubbed his face. Every piece of his body language said he was fighting internally over something. "No, it should not. But it does. Haven't you noticed anything strange about the first shift bridge crew?"

"Strange in what way?"

The internal fight hit critical mass. The combatant thoughts came spilling out of Jones' mouth, "There are a lot of young and extremely attractive people on that bridge. Most of them women. Don't tell me you haven't noticed."

The bridge crew were, statistically speaking, a little younger than average, and would be considered good-looking by human aesthetic standards. There were also more women than men. Itzel Garcia and Zahra Hasimova were prime examples of the trend. T'Vora, too, was considered objectively good-looking. She had a high degree of facial symmetry and a long list of suitors she had turned down over the years.

The only standout to which neither rule applied was Saru. The Kelpien was male and not particularly attractive by human standards, though he might have been considered as such by his own species.

T'Vora said coolly, "Captain Georgiou considers it her honor to mentor young officers."

"Like Ensign Hasimova?"

"Ensign Hasimova is a promising young officer," said T'Vora.

"Maybe," agreed Jones, "but she's first shift over Paxton and Wang. You can't deny second and third shifts are a complete sausage fest."

T'Vora's long stare suggested she not only did not understand the idiom, she also disliked the reference to meat products given her strictly vegetarian Vulcan diet. Jones continued, undaunted:

"Plus, she keeps going to Paxton for help with everything. He's tired on his shift because he wakes up early to help her do her work. I know Pax is less a bridge officer right now, but he's the better linguist. If he'd been on shift when we encountered that lului, we wouldn't have had all those translation issues in sickbay. He spent his entire shift cleaning that up for her. And it wasn't the first time. Frankly, Hasimova would benefit from training under _him_ , and he'd benefit from getting some attention from a captain."

"A single anecdote does not constitute proper justification for charges of this nature."

Jones leaned forward. "Pick a station. I'll tell you exactly which second- or third-shift officer would be better than the person who's currently there. And most of them have been on the ship longer."

T'Vora considered the engineer. "You are very blunt to criticize the captain," she noted, "yet not to her face."

"I'm not suicidal." Jones exhaled heavily. "Will you please just take a look at the list and give serious consideration to the people on it?"

T'Vora turned away, deep in thought. When she looked back at Jones, it was with the same emotionless, indifferent expression as ever. "Very well."

* * *

The vote went three to one in Saru's favor. Kaelle, B'Gexur, and Zehrrg-ib were willing to move forward with the trip. Shanaar was the holdout. In the end, he went along with the majority.

They were soon zipping across the water. Kaelle/Peresse stood at the bow, hair streaming behind her in the wind. B'Gexur reclined on a padded bench, balancing a reading padd on xeir round stomach. Lalana joined Arad at the boat's navigational console, while Saru, Shanaar, Zehrrg-ib, and Peter Bhandary sat in chairs around the deck. Saru and Bhandary took chairs as far from the others as possible, putting them in opposite corners of the deck. Saru hoped this would dissuade the others from engaging with him.

It did not. "Saru," Shanaar barked over the wind. "Vacation going how you expected it?" The Andorian smirked. Saru touched his ganglia self-consciously.

This attracted the attention of Kaelle/Peresse—Saru reminded himself he had to think of her as "Kaelle" or he was liable to slip up—and she came down from the bow to sit in the chair nearest him. She twirled a finger in her hair. "Tell me, Saru, what do you do when you're not vacationing on Risa?"

Saru stiffened, straightening with his hands on his knees and his knees pressed together. He could not tell the truth, but neither could he lie. "I… am a… scientist."

"Oh? Any particular type?" Kaelle leaned back and crossed an arm under her breasts in a manner that accentuated her cleavage.

Saru felt like knocking his hands together the way Lalana did. "Physics. And…"

"Hm," said Kaelle, not really interested in the specifics. "How did you meet Lalana?"

Saru was relieved. If he revealed he was a generalist rather than a specialist, it would narrow down the nature of his employment considerably.

He could not, however, think of a decent answer to Kaelle's question that did not blow his flimsy cover out of the water.

His need to answer was resolved by Lalana leaping down from the captain's perch and landing half a meter away. "I met Saru shortly after Starfleet rescued me from captivity," she said. "He is also the only known member of his species off his planet, so we have that in common. He has made it his responsibility to teach me manners."

Saru's mouth fell open. Technically, everything Lalana said was entirely true. Yet, taken together, it did not paint a very clear picture of their history together, completely omitting the detail that Saru was part of the recuing starship's crew.

"How sweet," said Kaelle, voice dripping honey. Her gaze smoldered as she looked at Saru. "Have you always been such a stick in the mud? Maybe someone should help you relax and let off that tension."

Saru's shock shifted into indignation. "No!" He self-corrected with a petulant, "Thank you."

Kaelle laughed. "I didn't mean me! With your face, you'd have to pay for it, honey."

"Pay for what?" asked Lalana. "And why does having a face matter? Is it free for lifeforms without faces?"

Kaelle pitched forward in her seat and fixed Lalana with an impish smile. "Don't you worry about that, little one." Then Kaelle smirked at Saru. "Isn't she just the cutest?"

These people, Saru decided, really were the worst.

* * *

The boat came to a stop in the middle of nowhere, nothing but ocean for many kilometers. Arad gave his "lawless waters" speech, glaring pointedly at Saru when he said the words "for those who haven't been with us before…" The table was brought out, the cards shuffled, and the game began.

This time, there were no gaming preambles. They went straight to Tredican.

Saru and Bhandary sat behind Lalana, where she could not see them and they could not signal her as to the cards other players were holding. Apparently, Bhandary was as much as passenger as Saru, though perhaps with the distinction that he might have been allowed to leave if he wanted.

The first few rounds were friendly enough. Zehrrg-ib had a large quantity of Orion Syndicate credits at its disposal—2.3 million of them. The ranger seemed to have collected his bounty. The others wagered currencies at pre-arranged exchange rates reflected by their multicolored chips. Lalana was working with trade credits, which weren't a currency but a valuation given to a specific trade good. It wasn't clear what the good she was working with was, but she had as much of it as she needed for the opening volleys.

Peter Bhandary sat motionless, eyes on Lalana's pile of chips. Saru squirmed in his chair.

"You all right there, Saru?" Arad called down from his perch.

"I am fine," said Saru, though his ganglia were aching from a near-constant state of panicked writhing and his wetsuit was chafing horribly.

Arad motioned Verra over and whispered something to her. She disappeared into the cabin and returned a moment later with a loose linen top and pants.

"Make yourself comfortable," said Arad.

Saru accepted the garments reluctantly and changed in the cabin. He did feel markedly better once the wetsuit was off. But then, that was Risians for you. Even when they were holding you hostage, they were very accommodating about it.

When Saru emerged back onto the deck, his ganglia jerked agonizingly. There was a palpable tension in the air.

Lalana was in a showdown with Zehrrg-ib. "I raise you one personal transport."

As if on cue, Bhandary rose from his chair and laid a holopadd on the table. A projection of a familiar ship appeared.

It was a Dartaran shuttle. Saru had seen two just like it very recently. One had exploded. The other had borne its owners back home.

Lalana was wagering Margeh and T'rond'n's surviving ship.

It made sense, suddenly, what Peter Bhandary was doing there. The human was known to the Dartarans. He was acting as their representative. But _why?_ Why would Margeh and T'rond'n stake Lalana's position in this game?

Recalling Lalana's final discussion with the Dartarans on the _Shenzhou_ , Saru was struck by a horrible thought. Was Lalana blackmailing them with some secret she knew?

Zehrrg-ib tapped its needlepoint fingers on the table. "All in," it said, and pushed the pile of chips and markers in front of it to the center of the table.

"All in," said Lalana.

Bhandary jerked with alarm. "You don't—you don't have to go all-in. You can call!"

"Too late," said Shanaar. "She's already declared."

"But…" Bhandary sat back down heavily.

Saru checked the cards on the table. The four cards in the common pool were not so good on their own, but if you were holding the right cards in your own hand, there was the potential for a killer combo.

He had no idea what cards Lalana was holding. He had been changing during the deal. Even he hadn't been, Lalana's method of checking her cards was to press them directly onto her eye when they were first dealt, then put them face-down on the table and not look at them again.

"All right," said Shanaar. "Let's see what you've got."

Zehrrg-ib picked up a card between its pincer-like fingers and flipped it over. Then the next, and the next, and the next.

The four cards were total junk.

Saru was gobsmacked. The Qrikurian had _nothing_ and bet as if it had the best possible hand.

Lalana's tail hovered by her cards. Using the tendrils at the very tip of her tail, she flipped them over one by one.

She had a single pair of sixes.

The spectators erupted. B'Gexur belly-laughed, Shanaar smacked his hand against the table, and Kaelle waved her hands with excitement. Arad gasped repeatedly, shoulders shaking. Verra, silent as ever, cupped her hands to her cheeks. Even the stoic Orion guards standing by the cabin were intrigued, though they remained stalwartly at their posts.

Bhandary slumped, looking like he might faint.

"That is the finest play I have ever seen!" declared B'Gexur.

"He could have had a four-straight," Kaelle said once she was recovered enough to speak.

"As I held two of three sixes, it seemed unlikely," said Lalana, spinning her hands. "A two pair was more probable. But Zehrrg-ib was betting as if it had the four-straight. So I assumed it was a bluff."

Saru looked at Zehrrg-ib. The Qrikurian Shadow Ranger was wiggling its fingers in the air and letting out a long, sustained _ssssssss_. Saru did not know what to make of this reaction until Zehrrg-ib said, "Perfect!"

Saru was too aghast to stay silent. "I don't understand," he said to Zehrrg-ib. "Why would you risk everything if you held nothing?"

The Qrikurian tapped the points of its fingers together. It fixed Saru with a look that (even obscured under an environmental suit) was extremely unsettling and said: "Chaosssssssss." It stretched the final letter out far longer than was comfortable.

In Lalana's story, Zehrrg-ib had delighted in the unpredictability of its native dice roll game even when it lost. It had always voted for newcomers to join the table, even when they were totally unknown quantities. Apparently, it just really, really liked _randomness_.

Saru retook his seat. Beside him, Bhandary put his face in his hands.

"Are you all right?" Saru asked.

"They're gonna kill me," Bhandary muttered, probably referring to Margeh and T'rond'n.

With Zehrrg-ib eliminated, the game took a cautious turn. No one else wanted to go out this early, even if Zehrrg-ib seemed not to mind. The ranger perched on the starboard railing with a fishing rod and completely ignored the game going on behind it. Occasionally, it pulled a fish out of the water, flipped a coin, and either added the fish to a bucket or returned it to the sea.

Eventually, the players' collective patience began to wane. The bets escalated. Armaments, ships, trade goods, contracts, information—nothing was off-limits.

Kaelle's pile of chips and bargainable goods began to wane. Then she went all-in against B'Gexur and emerged victorious, weakening B'Gexur's position considerably.

B'Gexur never quite recovered. A few rounds later, xe found xeirself at an impasse.

"What about that racing craft you won from Jokab?" Lalana asked, leaning forward so her head was sticking out over the table. (It must have happened at a later point in Lalana's unfinished story, because Saru vaguely remembered Jokab retaining ownership of the vessel in the part he had heard. Perhaps the loss of the ship related to Jokab's absence.)

"Don't leave us so soon!" crowed Kaelle.

B'Gexur shifted xeir gaze between Kaelle and Lalana. "So eager for my company? Or just my wealth?"

"Why does it have to be one or the other?" Kaelle answered.

"Yes," said Lalana. "Your wealth and your company are both very enjoyable!"

That made B'Gexur laugh, so xe threw the ship into the pot. When it came time for the reveal, B'Gexur had a respectable three pairs and Kaelle a three-striaght, but Lalana edged them out with a combo pair and three-straight.

"Well, I'm cleaned out," B'Gexur announced. There were still some chips in front of B'Gexur, but like Lalana on their previous journey, it wasn't enough to really continue at the current betting levels.

Kaelle, Shanaar, and Lalana had now collectively split all of Zehrrg-ib's stake and most of B'Gexur's. They continued for a few more rounds, shifting around some of the winnings and jockeying for final position. Lalana lost in a junk-hand full-bluff showdown with Shanaar. Then Shanaar beat Kaelle, effectively establishing himself as the day's winner.

"You did very well," Kaelle told Lalana. Even though Lalana had finished third, the lului had more than doubled her opening wealth. "Next time you might even win."

"Nn," said Lalana, spinning her hands. "I lasted as long as I did because of Zehrrg-ib's early loss against me. It provided me a buffer for my later losses."

Kaelle smiled condescendingly. Saru got the impression the Farian woman knew that already and was merely humoring Lalana.

Arad clapped his hands for attention. "I hope everyone enjoyed their excursion today. Whether you won or lost, the air was fresh, the game was good, and everyone's still alive. Verra will hand you your final ledgers with all asset transfers completed, and then you are free to beam out or make your way back to shore with us."

"Truly a memorable game," said B'Gexur. Xe stood, emergency transporter beacon in hand, and a moment later was gone in a bright white column of light.

"Let's do this again," said Kaelle, taking her ledger and activating her beacon.

Saru twitched at Kaelle's departure. He had never possessed any means of detaining the wanted fugitive, but it still felt like she had slipped through his fingers somehow. Like he _should_ have been able to bring her to justice. Despite not having his phaser, communicator, or any way of stopping her from beaming out.

Shanaar was next. He smiled down at Lalana. "You know where to find me."

"I look forward to our flying lessons," Lalana replied, spinning her hands. Then the Andorian was gone.

That left Zehrgg-ib. The Qrikurian flipped its fish coin and remained on the railing.

Arad shrugged and shook his head. "Okay. If no one's in any rush, we can take it slow enough for fishing. At least until sundown."

"Yesss," said Zehrrg-ib.

Verra and the Orion guards set about collecting the chips and cards from the table while Arad plotted their course back to the island.

"Was that not wonderful?" Lalana asked Saru.

Saru gaped, not sure what to say.

Peter Bhandary stole the words out of Saru's mouth. "No, it was not! That was the most stressful, terrifying five hours of my entire life!"

Lalana bunched down on her chair and curled her tail around her feet. Her fur started to writhe. "I thought you would be happy. I did not lose any of Margeh and T'rond'n's things, and now you may pay off your debt to the Syndicate."

Bhandary gasped and stared up at the underside of the boat's awning. "I don't even know where to begin."

"The beginning is usually the best place," said Lalana.

Saru had no interest in hearing Lalana launch into another incrementally epic story when there were elephant-sized questions to be answered. He said, "You were wagering with Margeh and T'rond'n's wealth. How did you come to have it?"

Lalana sat upright again. "I made a deal. I told them I would repay them for the loss of their ship if they loaned me what I needed to participate, and if I failed to do so, I would return to them as my forfeit."

Her answer chilled Saru to the bone. His ganglia, exhausted to the point of limply hanging against his neck, undulated weakly with shock.

The others had been wagering with wealth, goods, and valuables they could afford to lose.

Lalana had been playing for her freedom.

* * *

T'Vora met with Georgiou at the end of the day, as they always did, to discuss the events of the day shift and the preparations for the overnight crew. The door to the ready room slid shut behind them. Georgiou made her way to an unobtrusive wall compartment and poured herself a drink.

"Unbelievable," Georgiou sighed.

T'Vora joined Georgiou at the wall, selected a shot glass, and poured a measure of Romulan ale.

Georgiou raised an eyebrow. Alcohol was not T'Vora's usual end-of-shift choice. Neither was the Malaysian rice wine in Georgiou's cup, but today had been a little more trying than usual. "You, too?"

T'Vora considered her drink. The reasoning behind it was slightly different than Goergiou's, based more on the discussion to come than the day already gone.

They sat down. T'Vora waited for Georgiou to initiate the conversation.

Georgiou took a sip of her wine, then said, "First, they don't want to go on away missions because Saru is here, and now they don't want to go because he _isn't_. I can't decide whether to laugh or cry."

This was the crux of the day's dilemma. With Saru off the ship for the week, the away team had lost their resident good luck charm. They had hemmed and hawed throughout the duration of their sample collection mission, dragging what should have been a four-hour mission into seven.

"Neither reaction would be logical," T'Vora said.

"Sometimes I wonder… Was taking Saru from his planet the wisest choice?"

"You could have denied his request to serve on this ship."

Georgiou tilted her glass. "He begged. And… I must admit, it is something of an honor. I am the only Starfleet captain to have a completely unique species on my bridge." She drank to that.

"If you had sought to enlist the lului, you would have had two."

Georgiou sniffed. "That lului could never be in Starfleet. It lacked… deference for order."

"Order is a cornerstone of our profession," agreed T'Vora, downing her Romulan ale.

Georgiou studied her first officer carefully. T'Vora was professionally deferent and unemotional, but she could tell something was bothering the Vulcan. "Is it courage in your cup?"

T'Vora considered the empty glass. "It could be last rites."

"Yours? Or someone else's?"

"That remains to be determined."

Georgiou put her glass down and leaned her elbow on the table. "Come, T'Vora. You know I cannot meld to your mind."

It might have helped. T'Vora stared, deep in thought, perhaps already feeling the effects of the ale.

"Speak," insisted Georgiou.

T'Vora spoke. "There is a trend, Captain, of promotion and support for certain female members of the crew. This initiative is of benefit to them, but some might suggest it comes at the expense of other crewmembers. I would not see a captain of your esteem have her reputation marred by such a rumor, as I believe it is this rumor which stands in the way of your attaining higher post in Starfleet."

The lack of promotion opportunity did not concern Georgiou. The danger to her reputation did. "Do you think I favor my female crew?"

"Vulcans do not listen to rumors."

It was a non-answer. Georgiou hummed faintly and sipped at her wine. "Do you know, more than half of humans are female, and yet we make up less than forty percent of Starfleet captains?"

"I am aware." T'Vora mentally corrected Georgiou's assertion—less than forty percent of _human_ Starfleet captains, because many other species held commands.

"Is it therefore such a terrible 'initiative' to ensure that women seeking position in Starfleet have role models to look up to? And opportunities to attain such position?"

"I would agree that it is an admirable initiative," said T'Vora—though she was aware of another factor at play. Human women tended towards more stable posts than their male counterparts. While plenty of women opted for far-flung exploration like Georgiou, women were statistically less likely to engage in the eager recklessness of human men, who threw themselves at deadly away missions with wanton abandon. Propelled by hormonal differences, according to the literature. Like Vulcan males in throes of _pon farr_.

"And yet," said Georgiou bitterly.

T'Vora could tell Georgiou was reluctant. "I understand you would not wish rumor to affect your decision-making, If I may, Commander ch'Theloh would make a fine first officer."

"A Vulcan suggesting an Andorian?" said Georgiou, curiosity piqued.

"A Vulcan suggesting the most logical choice and most capable member of your crew."

Georgiou tilted her glass thoughtfully. "I had been considering Commander Penning."

"As had I," said T'Vora. "I will require a capable first officer on the _Edison_."

Georgiou harrumphed with amusement. T'Vora had thought of everything, as usual. "So you shall. If you wish to bring her, then please. Take her with my blessing." She brought her cup to her lips but did not drink. "Is there anything else?"

"It would be beneficial to cycle out the first shift crew more often. Commander ch'Theloh could draw up a new duty roster as his first course of action. This would further enable you to blame any appearance of impropriety on me."

"That would be dishonest," said Georgiou, a smile forming

"Sometimes dishonesty is logical."

Georgiou finished the wine in her cup. T'Vora was going to make a formidable admiral someday.


	14. When Push Comes to Shove

The stars were on full display by the time the boat docked and the remaining passengers disembarked. Lalana instructed Peter Bhandary to dispense a portion of her winnings to Margeh and T'rond'n (plus the return of the principal they had provided), a portion to Arad and Verra, and a portion to himself—enough Orion Syndicate credits to wipe out the debt Bhandary had accumulated.

"I hope it will ease your suffering," Lalana said to Bhandary. She reached her tail towards his hand.

Bhandary's hand snapped back. "Never call me again," he said, and beamed out.

The only thing Lalana kept for herself was the racing craft. "It's at the north shuttle terminal," Arad said. "You have three hours before it gets towed."

"I will go there now," Lalana declared, setting off.

Again, Saru found himself chasing after her. He caught up in two long strides and matched the speed of her loping walk. The streets were quiet, residents and tourists alike engaged in late evening activities or already turned in for the night. "Sollis and Caxus will be worried," he said. "We did not leave them any message."

"I cannot afford to lose my new ship," said Lalana. "It was the entire purpose of this venture."

"Still. We should let them know you are safe."

"What difference will it make to see them now or after collecting the ship? Either way, both things must happen. Does the order matter?"

"It would be polite," Saru said firmly. He was barely keeping his own manners in check at this point.

They stopped at a video booth. Sollis and Caxus were relieved to see Saru and Lalana, though, as Sollis noted, "We knew nothing bad would happen since you were with her." The Risian woman smiled at Saru.

Saru shrank back from the compliment. At no point during the day had he felt at all safe, and his presence had added nothing of note. In fact, he had let one of the galaxy's most wanted criminals slip away. The fact he had been of benefit on any recent away missions was beginning to feel like a fluke.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and ended the call. Saru attempted to contact Janet Myers, but the brigadier general had disappeared from the tourist registry. He wondered if she had observed his run down to the docks with Lalana that morning and concluded the case was solved.

Myers was probably angry he had not checked in with her immediately upon locating Lalana. He'd gotten so swept up in the situation, the thought had not crossed his mind until he was staring at Peresse, and by then it was too late.

This lingering sense of failure, stress, and frustration weighed on Saru as they headed for the shuttleport on the north side of the island. Peter Bhandary's words echoed in his head. _Never call me again_.

Saru pressed his hands against his chest, one hand cupping the other. "Lalana, this day has been exceptionally trying. You have willfully put yourself and those around you into extreme danger. You have acted heedlessly and without regard for the consequences of your actions. What if you had lost Margeh and T'rond'n's assets?"

"Well, if you are not wagering something of value, then it is not a proper wager. But I was very careful. There was no danger."

The statement gripped Saru with new concern. "What do you mean, there was no danger?" There had been danger every single moment at that accursed table. Saru's ganglia had told him so.

The road turned uphill towards the shuttleport. It was deserted; shuttles were only a popular method of travel in the daytime when there was something to see. Their only companions were the shadowy forms of the trees lining the road. Lalana tapped her fingers. "I only wagered according to whether I would win or lose. If I was going to lose, I wagered assets which were expendable. When I was going to win, I wagered things which were not."

Saru's awful suspicion was confirmed. "You knew—how each hand would go."

"Of course. There are only fifty-four cards in a Trideca deck. Once the dealing order has been ascertained, it's simply a matter of keeping track each time the cards are shuffled."

"You were… _cheating_."

"Cheating is wrong," said Lalana, which was not an explicit denial.

The kickbacks Arad mentioned prior to departure. Saru felt his stomach drop. "Arad suggested this?"

"No. I had to convince Arad and Verra to invite the others back. Given that they were willing to wager starships, it seemed an excellent way to obtain one." She spun her hands. "Now I will no longer require a taxi to move between islands or need to wait for passage to other planets. I will be able to go anywhere I wish, and at a time of my own choosing."

Saru's voice rose with angry desperation. The tips of his ganglia emerged for one last hurrah. "Lalana, if they find out you were counting cards—!"

"How would they? My performance was entirely unremarkable. I lost or folded most hands. I modeled my win percentage on Jokab, and only won what I needed to. Also, Zehrrg-ib's early loss provided them with a convincing narrative as to my enduring performance. I do not think they suspected."

The ganglia were fully out now. Saru bristled at the juxtaposition of this instinctive reaction against his own anger. "I cannot be party to this any longer." He stopped. "You are associating yourself with extremely dangerous individuals. You refuse counsel on even the simplest of matters and charge headlong into dangerous situations without regard for the people around you. If you will not listen to me, then… there is no reason for us to continue our association."

Lalana stopped, pressed her hands together, and bunched down on the ground. Her tail curled up over her body and covered her eyes. A ripple rolled across her fur. "I am very sorry. I did not know this would upset you and Peter so."

"That is why you should _ask_ ," said Saru, balling his fists. He needed to keep his resolve. "That is the basic precept of good manners. And while you may claim ignorance for a time, at a certain point, it is no longer ignorance. It must be intent."

The myriad tendrils of Lalana's fur writhed like fully rested and reactive Kelpien ganglia. She did not speak further, simply huddled there on the ground with her eyes covered.

Saru's fists unclenched, but his ganglia remained twitchy. Some part of him had expected yet more explanation, justification, rationalization. That would have been easier to walk away from. He had never expected Lalana to go _quiet_. He looked down at the roadway.

Everything happened all at once.

There was a _schwnnng_ , rapidly followed by a pair of _fssst_ sounds from the trees ahead. Saru jumped backwards faster than he could even realize what he was doing, but not fast enough. A web of wire appeared in the air above them.

The first of two bolas struck Lalana squarely across the haunch. Saru's jump spared him from the second, but his upward trajectory crossed with the path of the net. The wires settled around his face and shoulders like an octopus and he was hit with an electric jolt. He crashed back down to the ground.

Three dark, hulking shapes emerged from the trees ahead. Saru twisted and convulsed as electric pulses ransacked his body. His every jerk twisted him further into the net.

"You took your time," said a familiar voice. B'Gexur joined the goons on the roadway. A lantern came alight in xeir hand. It gruesomely illuminated the jagged yellow contours of the Axanarri's grinning teeth. "We were beginning to wonder."

Saru struggled to prop himself up on his arms, twisting his head so he could see Lalana. The strings of the bola had sliced deeply into the fleshy part of her haunch when the weights wrapped around her body. Crackles of light danced across her surface, as if her tendrils were electrical ladder poles.

The goons threw a second net over Lalana. They began to draw it in along the edges to wrap it around her.

B'Gexur leered at the snared lului. "You disappeared so quickly after our first outing, I thought the opportunity gone. But then you invited me back!" Yellow eyes shifted towards Saru. "And you brought an equally valuable friend."

Saru winced. B'Gexur had never cared about winning or losing during the card game. Xe had always been chasing another prize—an alien who was the only known members of its species at large. And then Lalana had brought along Saru.

Even the loss of the ship seemed to be calculated. B'Gexur _wanted_ Lalana to win it so xe could lay an ambush along a road Lalana, being unable to transport to her destination, would have to take.

The net was closing around Lalana.

Though Saru's head and shoulders were weighted down by the painfully pulsing net, his legs were not. He waited for the net to pulse, then launched himself at the nearest goon with a shout, colliding with the furry humanoid. The goon yelped as the electrical pulse of the net struck them both and toppled.

"Shoot him!" B'Gexur yelled. The other two goons drew their phasers. "On _stun!_ "

Saru rolled so the goon he was tackling took the brunt of the shots and went limp. Even so, the energy pulses numbed Saru's hands and feet.

The shots did have the effect of short-circuiting the electric net. Saru scrambled backwards to wriggle free, narrowly avoiding another phaser shot.

A coin landed in the middle of the road.

B'Gexur looked up.

It was like a void opened in the sky. A shimmer of darkness dropped onto one of the goons. Two long, sharp needles pressed into the goon's eyes. He screamed and tried to grab at his attacker.

The last goon swung his phaser in the direction of this new assailant. This was all the opportunity Saru needed to get free of the net. He lunged for the last goon, but rather than aim for a tackle, he kicked out at the phaser with the full force of his leg.

The bones in the goon's wrist snapped. The weapon went flying, and the goon spun away.

Goons downed, this left only B'Gexur. Xe turned to run. The shadow leapt from the shoulders of the blinded goon and swept after the fleeing Axanarri like a cloth on the wind. B'Gexur made it all of three steps before xe was felled. Green ichor seeped out onto the road from half a dozen narrow neck wounds.

The shadow cloak lifted and Zehrrg-ib emerged from underneath. The Qrikurian wiped ichor from its long, needle-thin fingers onto the interior of the cloak. The inside of the camouflage device seemed to shimmer with tiny pinpricks of light.

The two conscious goons wailed and flopped around on the roadway. Saru stared at Zehrrg-ib, frozen. Was the shadow ranger after the same payday as the disreputable merchant?

"Friend?" asked Zehrrg-ib.

It was not a request but a reminder. Saru turned and looked at Lalana's form, still prone under the crackling of the electric bola, and rushed to help.

Zehrrg-ib had an easier time removing the offending device. Its slender fingers were like surgical tweezers. Lalana was able to sit up once the electrical currents were no longer pulsing through her body, though she remained too wobbly to stand.

She pressed her fingers to her translator, but it was thoroughly fried. "Lu… helh-puh." _You helped_.

"Why?" asked Saru.

"Arad have rule. Come alive, leave alive. Smart rule. Only idiot come back."

"Lank you, Lelghl-glib."

"Ressspect," hissed Zehrrg-ib. "You are agent of chaos. Like Shadow Ranger." It was almost possible to imagine a smile beneath Zehrrg-ib's unfathomable environmental mask.

Saru surveyed the carnage. The goon with the broken arm was stumbling away down towards town. The blinded goon was curled up at the side of the road, keening softly. The stunned goon remained immobile, and B'Gexur was never getting back up.

"We must contact the authorities," he declared.

"You go," said Zehrrg-ib. "Help friend. I clean."

Saru hesitated.

"Unless want be clean?" suggested Zehrrg-ib.

The imagined smile disappeared in an instant. Realizing the Risian authorities were not likely to do anything more than sweep this under the rug, and Qrikurian Shadow Rangers were not known for leaving crime scenes, Saru decided to take this once-in-a-lifetime offer and get out of there before they became collateral damage.

When he started down the hill carrying Lalana, she objected. "Shlhu-ull!" _Shuttle_.

Grimacing, Saru struggled up the hill instead. He stared pointedly at the road ahead. His decision to flee the scene weighed on him almost as much as Lalana did.

Absent the translator, the journey proceeded in relative silence. "Lhu ochlay?" Lalana asked. "Ller lhu hurr?"

"I'm still mad at you." Saru stamped his foot down hard on his next step, jarring himself as much as her. Another angry stamp, then he looked downward slightly and caught a glimpse of her eyes. "But I am not hurt. Not seriously."

Lalana curled her tail around Saru's arm. Her giant green eyes stared up at him. Though her words were pidgin lului-English, he had no trouble understanding: "I'm sorry. I will listen to you. From now on."


End file.
